The Withered Rose


Cold you have grown towards me,

I am now dull and withered.

In your box full of mementos, I reside,

With a loss of petals and only a thorn left of protection.

You stumble upon me every now and again,

I am left to wonder why I am spared,

And not thrown out with my fellow yard waste.

Moments I relive,

A smile on your face,

Your eyes that moment my fragrance consumed you.

Kept deep inside and yet buried away,

As you relive the mental photographs,

Of the time I was in full bloom and vibrant.

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