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Apr 2010
...he loves me....
...he loves me not....
...he loves me....
...he loves me not...

sitting in a flower patch
wondering about you



and every fallen petal
every turn of daisy
is as different as the seasons

winter encased everything in white
the whiteness blinds emotion
it frosts the heart

and spring came all too late
the sun melted away the ice
and left me in a flood of emotions
i had carefully frozen

i was blind in the brightness
of that soft frozen world
but spring has come
and i can see



i ponder in the flower patch

...he loves me....
...he loves me not....
Copyrighted by author.
Written by
Etta James
1.2k
     D Conors
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