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Carnations
pressed between book pages
On the flowers, fragile and faded,
I can still smell the scent of long-ago perfume
The petals fall, papery snowflakes
melting like promises
forgotten.
Written for the previous week's Sunday Mini Challenge, Triquain at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads
1 comment:
This is gorgeous, LM. The fragrance of memory has been conjured with a graceful flair in your triquain.
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