Fare thee well durable rose, you leave us without fanfare. Your eminence recognized, appreciated, and favored, yet your season taken for granted until we touch your darkened petals. Chancellor, queen mother, beauty emeritus, dowager, silver threads web over precious golden thorn, your glorifying protective stem. They call you summer's last weary beauty yet your countenance is the face of experience against the newborn baby blue autumn sky. Your sisters whisper with bowed heads, serenity a perennial truth.Kip Powell
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