A poem Sophie finds in a diary kept by her grandfather Sparrow. He had apparently left the journal in Samarkand during his last journey there. A wicked flower slowly withers An eternity to wash away the soul That once bloomed in a paradise That quickly faded into shadow And though the petals Are beautiful With their hedonistic array of colour There are too many thorns Guarding the fragile heart within No one can touch it All who try Have died away Alone in shadow A wicked flower withers
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