Rosemary
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Sweet whiff of heather,
a breath of cologne
the mirror was a window she sat by alone.
All around her the garden grew
scarlet and purple and crimson and blue.
She came dead, she lived, and at last went away,
the garden was sealed when the flowers decayed.
On the wall of the garden a legend did say,
no one may come here since no one may stay. |
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