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These flowers

Are fading now.

 

 

This vase

Which stands so stable

On this wooden table

May not break

In my lifetime.

 

 

But hours pass.

Glass breaks

And this rhyme

Composed as I sit

At this wooden table

As the clock ticks

May remain

When all I see

Is gone from me.

 

 

But this grain

Of truth

Will stay

When my mind

Can no longer play

With time.