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Almost to the dark house
The woman strolled down the street
She flung open the door

A gust of cold air hit her
Almost knocking her off the front porch

She knew there was no more bliss to be felt
She ran to the fish bowl
And there gold was belly up

He looked so gentleandpeaceful
Next to the bowl was the beautiful withered rose
She had picked when she first got him.

Now she was left with
An empty bowl and a dead rose

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