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If it is not the flame of Time’s passion stirring
By what other name can it be called
When roses suddenly bring
Winter’s coldest days
To thaw

Sad eyes give but half a kiss imprisoned
In a cold embraceless Spring
No flowers in the sun
Do Winter roses
Bring

Does Old Nature smile while sweetly singing
With no need to look with any doubt
At the roses Summer’s bringing
Knowing
They are devout
Copyright *Neva Flores @2010
www.changefulstorm.blogspot.com
www.stumbleupon.com/stumbler/Changefulstorm
Philip Lawrence May 2020
Days once lived in anticipation, anxious for love,
yet ever hopeful for the ever lorn,
now lost to a world wary and frightened,
proximity the new Devil’s door,
the prescribed chasm much more than the height of a man,
as hope for a brush of lock, a goodnight caress, are abandoned,
leaving the embraceless many.

— The End —