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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Contest >> ID #880860 |
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Outside my window grew a rose. How and why I can just suppose. A single rose, alone, but proud; It blossomed wide without a crowd. It's beauty stood all season long, Enchanting as a bluebirds's song. Harvest came, I began to worry While watching all the squirrels scurry. I did not want to lose this friend When nature's season came to end. I found a pot and soiled it well; Headed out with the rose's cell. As I approached I knew regret Reached slowly so not to forget. Learned a lesson that autumn day. Some things are meant to be that way. For hell hath no fury like a woman scorned and Mother Nature's child gave me her thorn.
© Copyright 2004 Mitch (UN: maposner at Writing.Com).
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