The Fading Rose

When petals fall and scent recedes,
not even saved by gentle rains,
It's memory not forgotten,
the beauty of the rose remains.

It stood with pride for all to see,
and those who viewed in breathless awe,
could scarce contain the wonder
of the fragile treasure that they saw.

And as it dignified with age,
all those who knew it, rich became;
for from its graceful pass through life,
its beauty always stays the same.

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