She viewed the remains of her greatest romance, relived the music, fell into his dance. Perfumed vanilla and mint, a whiff of sorrow adrift in the parlor. At six he would leave her with nothing but flowers. She wore her sunflower dress to their first kiss, imprints of gray, barely a mist. A last dance, my love, before the orchestra finishes; a dream, a bareΒ dream, before memory diminishes.


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