Rain Rose

A wilting rose sits on the first step.
Looking in every direction for a messenger,
But no ones out there.
Delicate fingers wrap loosely around the stem.
Careful not to prick her finger,
As she holds it to her chest.
Tears roll down, dripping on crisp petals.
Softening the wilted rose,
Just before it melts away,
Leaving nothing but a memory

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