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Red Rose

She wears a rose
of bright neon red
stacked up neatly upon her head.

Her eyes that shine
a soft sweet brown
demand respect, she is profoun.

For when she talks
you stop you listen.
She speaks for those enclosed in prison.


When she walks
her stride she dances
people stare there are no glances.

She is astonishing
memorizing and kind.
She is my friend. She is divine.




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