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    Sorrow is a flower which in hand despairs And wilts with our weeping. Whose withered flesh flits across the air At the slightest breath To bury i… Read More
    Sorrow is a flower which in hand despairs And wilts with our weeping. Whose withered flesh flits across the air At the slightest breath To bury its fertile decay deep in the ground. If you come to the place where it lies sleeping Kneel and speak love to warm the grave. Where tears cleanse and nurture A flower shall root and in life, sweetly endure. -Danielle Demaray Read Less
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