Poetry / THE GARDEN
She is a rose,
Vivid and bright.
She shines like the sun,
In the darkest of night.
The garden she’s in is,
Unlike them all.
I watch her in her garden,
From high atop this wall.
She sees me on high,
She calls out to me.
She wants me to pick her,
How could this be?
Gently I pluck her.
A change taking place,
Standing before me,
A beautiful face.
She thanks me,
For breaking the spell she was under.
All I can do,
Is gape in wonder.
How is this possible?
How could this be?
Don’t question this,
Love you have for me.
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What a thoughtful gift he gave you when he wrote this for you.
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