val3
You'd never allow my love to cast a shadow on your heart; if it's over it's been forgotten, hasn't it?
The stem lied barren below the bare branches of the once flourishing plum tree. Winter has plucked the vibrant scarlet petals from its core. The stem softly perished allowing its memories to wither in fresh droplets of snow; such is the beauty of a rose - fleeting in its anticipation to be replanted - much like the months of winter reborn.