They are the Roses

March 23, 2011
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Like a warm rain in the month of May
I see roses
Like the cold chill on a Paris snow day
They hold poses
Like the beating heart in an infant’s chest
They hold to their colour
Blood is their red
Like I see our tower on this rainy day
Umbrellas cover our heads
The sun’s gone away
And the things we hold, they are the roses

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