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Xerophily
The desert sun at the horizon-
And I wonder as my hope sets
If I will rise at all
In the silhouette of a dying rose.
Petals crumble
And fall to the ground.
Life fading into sand
In a wild, untame’d land.
Damaged hopes
Stemming from
Drying flowers
Covered in thorns.
But I see though barbs remain
In cuts as deep as false love
As petals dry and fall,
Tears will fall and dry.
Though I crumble
And fall to the ground
I will touch the earth
On a wing’ed wind
As a desert flower
Deserted
Not forgotten
I bend
But I will not be broken.
The desert sun at the horizon-
And all I know as my hope sets:
As the sun rises, so shall I
In the silhouette of a dying rose.
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xerophily: adaptation to very dry conditions