wilting white roses
sit at my side
their redolence
wafts
over me
with waves
of sweet
decay
I remember my grandmother's
silver perfume compact
embossed
and
empty
except the edges
still cloaked
with cracked cream.
rose, metal and age
swaddle together
the essences
a weathered woman
a newborn talc
tarnish
hope
NaPoWriMo day 25
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