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The Rose

She hid herself in the park, on an icy cold day, this pink rose that began to open the closer I came her way. She spoke and said to me,’ hold me in your hands, as I being so small as you can see, will touch  a beloved’s heart with my beauty no matter how cold today can be.  Delicate as I may be, give me warmth so I may flower;  your gentle touch does not threaten me’.   Opening with radiant petals, so fair, with her sweet nectar as the air, so soft, so unique, joined at the center as part of each, what kind of miracle was this existential moment of nature’s love affair? Protected from the frost, tender, laying in my hands,  I brought her to one as splendid as she.
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Written by
hunter
Published
Dec 9, 2010
Lines·Words
14·133
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