Was it all but a tender dream that hence I have awakened from? More than simply this it did seem. Yet bittersweet parting is the sum. Would that the beauty of a rose last more than but an hour. For as quickly as love grows it dies as does yon flower. Could but that emotion ever remain and multiply more each day. Yet it dwindles with every passing rain until exhausted it fades away. Still I can scarce bring myself to believe the passion dies upon the vine. Let me dwell in fantasies I might conceive that this perfect love is mine. so TrIcK it is"Now be still" SultryRose's Signatures
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