The irony so bitter -
The sweet rose growing alongside a weed
The stagnant picture burns a deep hole in the memory
of someone long dead.
The deception so bright -
The sweet rose being a fading picture
The truth being seen only in the other window
of someone far away, a shadow.
The grief so slight -
The sweet rose growing towards a glowing Sun
The moon neglected as always
The rose hides away in night.
The sweet rose -
the scent sweet
beckoning across a window.
De Zhong
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