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Symphony of Roses

How good, how fresh the roses were
In my garden! My eyes charmed me!
How I prayed the spring frost!
Do not touch them with a cold hand!
How I protected, how I cherished the youth
My flowers are cherished, dear;
It seemed to me that joy flourished in them,
It seemed to me that love breathed in them.

What do you think?

17 points

Written by Olga N

Wordsmith BuddySmarty PantsBookwormBeastLoyal BuddyYears Of Membership


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