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Bracing for Winter
I can feel my petals receding back.
The sun's too bright,
and the world is harsh.
A cold front’s lurking.
Let me shield myself just a day more.
I don't wanna wither and die,
or turn to stone and lose
what she has so effortlessly.
I saw her from across the garden and she made her way to me,
laid a petal on mine, and the world metamorphosized.
I thought I did it all right:
gifting the whole garden with my reserves,
which I hid for so long,
for fear of pollution.
But water dries up and the oil is inevitable.
Nothing unscathed stays that way forever.
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