Lively fresh cut rose
It will wilt soon
For each wrinkle a tear has fallen
It sheds a tear of its own in the middle of strife
A bee tends to the loss of beauty
I stare at this rose you gave me
And I wonder long this one will last
In a vase
Hope it stays
But one day
You will go away.
© Copyright 2016 rachelkoyama. All rights reserved.
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