Remembrance

In the gray-shining winter morn
I wandered the grim garden through,
And found there a last rose, forlorn,
That was the opposite of you.

And I plucked it and shook it bare,
And with triumph laid it to death,
Rememb’ring the gold in your hair
And the still-live warmth of your breath.

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1 Response to Remembrance

  1. Gump says:

    Great common sense here. Wish I’d thughot of that.

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