She glanced across the counter

At the tiny rose.

Wilted and grey,

She knew the flower needed care.

She filled a glass with cool water

And carefully approached the rose.

She thought of how she tried,

How she had cared,

How she had nurtured,

How she had loved.

Her best simply wasn’t enough.

She set down the glass

And reached for her phone.

Her flower was not the only thing

She had given up on.

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