Love ItLove It

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


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