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Rosebud

The rosebuds arrive
theyk very nice
in the ivory vase
but cannot amend my wanting heart
Now that you're gone
And I sit broken hearted
In this room designed black
as a cenotaph.

The rosebuds are pink and red
With them and their memory
I do grow old
And with their perfume tell stories
to the seagulls that fly past the window.

until eternity unites us again.
In heaven.

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