roses for my birthday; they were
such a lush assortment -- buds
of red, and yellow, white and peach;
two pink; two cream with crimson tips --
and two this salmon color,
already open, and each morning
I've come downstairs to find more buds
not opening but sagging, and soon all
had bowed their heads and left my world
but this one: see her glowing still,
her petals lightly curled but smooth,
as if to say this friendship will last forever.
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