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August
Poems
Sep 2019
He gave me dead flowers
He gave me dead flowers
So I can smell them every day
The rotten petals falling
The color of decay
The washed out sunflower
The dehydrated leaves
The mold on the water
The color of debris
The richly red rose
Now drooping to the floor
The color of love
Existed no more
But still I saved the flowers
And smelled them every day
And watered them with tears
To let them grow again.
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August
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