The Vivid dawn-tinted smear
Of a lone rose in an Orchard
Vitally caresses my fingertips
In all its unsullied splendor
‘Midst Frost, Sleet and Hail
As I enwrap its gossamer petals
In streams of sheer satin sheathing
My Pulse racing in a Bid
To hold on to a piece of pureness
A sliver of Moist innocence
That wilts in the Strident nocturnal glare
Of the raging Storm overhead
T’is a Microcosm of Life; a Life
Abounding with Cathartic Bids
To hold on to a piece of unstained Innocence
‘Else corroded by Skewed realities
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