An elderly women sat next to me,

I could smell her decay, her withering scent;

On the other side sat a maiden fair,

whose scent was as sweet as could be.


A flower in bloom, a flower soon to pass;

Should I sense the decay of the blossom?

Or the sweetness of a bud bygone?


All bodies spring forth, bloom and decay;

All souls take grip and too soon release;

No perfume can hide the scent that I smell,

For it is the smell of Life itself.

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