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Sunday, July 16, 2006

To The Little Artificial Flowers

My poor little flowers,
Mummified in cloth
To live for a thousand years
And yet not
For a single day!
You saw
Your real little sister today.

Modest, half-opened,
With untimely plucking
Red and grey,
She droops to her death
Having never
Seen the time of Bloom.

Even as year doom is,
Sealed in the bud:
Your petals never to open
Once, in a thousand yours.
Sadia Arman
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