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Ron
Poems
Apr 2022
Idiom
White as new sliced snow,
Black as the fallen crow,
Time stills its random flow.
Deep as the lover’s swoon,
Sultry as the summer’s noon,
Tender like the bud in bloom.
As autumn falters in crimson color,
Shivering cold in pale chill fire,
Love’s flame will come to an end.
Only then will they know...
Only then will they know.
Written by
Ron
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