And there they sat,
Joined in matrimony by a common stem.
I picked it from its lengthy vine and stood
in awe in the presence of the multiplied magnificence.
Nodded in approval.
“This is what I would like,” I said.
The conjoined roses have grown weary.
Their colors faded.
Their petals wilted,
On the brink of crumbling.
Despite their inevitable decay,
They continue to remain a whole,
Together by the stem which was at first
flimsy and brittle,
The stem which grew strong and sturdy,
Enduring the test of time.
An infinite memento of a love everlasting.
Not to be undone.
This is what I would like.
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