Surrounded by stately trees, it rests among holly
evergreens and fading lilies now all getting choked by ivy and wild grass. Proudly, one surviving rose bloom stands in the small garden and shows off its bright pink shade. It minds not the wherewithal of the stem or
roots that hold it; it stretches itself as far upwards and only minds that it holds up its dashing
late summer bloom until its petals dry up, fall, and fold.
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