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Momento Mori

a smile upon a young girl’s face as she plucks a rose from a garden bed hair filled with Queen-Anne’s-lace a crown of daisy’s adorns her head no sooner plucked then left for dead though an honorable thief with heart as pure as gold these aren’t the flowers of O’Keeffe whose features won’t grow old, petals will droop, decay, mold to watch a flower wither is an honest thing she kept the crown with her memento mori she could bring as she planned redemption in the spring

Copyright © | Year Posted 2022




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Book: Shattered Sighs