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December 2016 Life n
My rose, is dead.
My, lovers rose.
Whose colour, deep....
Was that, of red.
Blackness, tinged its petals.
Like the darkness, in my heart.
Once plucked
Slowly dying, from its centre.
Still beautiful....
To touch.
With, a lingering scent.
My love,immortalised....
In
Death
Giajl © Jim Love
