A rose bloomed.
A poem written in buds.
It offered its arms, illiterate to whats been written.
It fell asleep. A garden in thought.
Slipping from the ledge it grew.
In REM it whispered.
Wake me when we land.
For I will have acheived my dream
Jan 18, 2018
Jan 18, 2018 at 6:35 PM UTC
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