Rummaging through her antique French wardrobe made of oak wood, she came upon an old gift. It was a long stemmed blossom of velvet red rose from years ago. It has senesced through years. Time has withered it now.
Her name is Annora and this is a story of a rose.
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She was a rose,
spectacular, beautiful,
but she was covered in thorns,
gave joy to the eye
but caused scars around fingers.
She would end in flames,
but for now on she will
live in frost.