24.5.11

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The rose's wrinkles remind me of love. One of a bouquet of Mothers growing grand. Giving the gift of a generation. The fleeting and fragile life of its petals reflect a universal harmony. In the pain of losing something you hold dear there is a tear telling you to cherish the present, to reach out and touch someone who cares.

I'll bury this rose, respecting what it represents. A funeral for a flower.

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