Flower Poem

A mirror stood in a dark, cold room

and displayed the image of a wilted flower.

Its petals gray and worn,

its stem weak and limp.

As the minutes passed,

it lost the little color it had,

and lost the little structure it had.

In front of the mirror stood a young, vibrant, firm flower

who looked at its reflection in dismay.

Although the flower was young and vibrant,

within seconds, it turned gray and crumbled.

There lay a dead, wilted flower,

with nothing to blame but a mirror.

What remained of the flower laid on the cold, hard floor,

and the mirror stood in the cold, dark room.

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