The Rose Bloom

January 13, 2011
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It begins as a tight bud, neatly woven together.
Dawning with the beautification of Spring,
it gently unravels with time.

The petals are lovely, silken, fragile;
There is a distinctly pure, irresistible fragrance,
holding the same innocence as a child.

But when the day has finally aged,
a blanket of brown steals away the beauty.
Petals fall, rot, diminish.

A new Spring arrives,
once again conveying the vibrant blood-red.
This adored symbol of romance returns at last
as the Rose Bloom.

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