I have a quiet tendency
Through the chilled wintry window
Transparent dew blossoms reflect heaven and memory
It is winter
There is no sap, nectar, or pollen
And the bark is brittle
If not frozen
My memory is both a blink and a wink
Shall I explain?
Imagine the scent of a rainbow
Don't think
Messages - like memories - become fossils
They will always exist
But in a small, specialized field
A little terrarium, some would say
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