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Dry Petals
April 30, 2013
The flowers are breathing,
The hours they stand there,
They tower the green grass,
They shower in the rain.
They cry when their alone.
They sigh when they are sad.
They dry in the hot sun,
They die in black beauty.
Their seeds take former place,
The needs are easy met,
And weeds are pushed away
Life leads to certain death
And our flowers fade away
Replaced by seeds and dry petals.
© Wajida S., Shrewsbury, MA
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