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About This Poem
Soft words
Softly pluck mine heart petals,
Stinging words naught akin to nettles
Mine eyes thus tempest come
Harshness canst naught be undone.
A heart bleeds with disputes thorn,
Wounded love metamorphism scorn.
Pray ye pluck mine floral heart genteel,
Heed mine trepidatious appeal.
Within a garden Eden love's shine,
A fragile blossom which a heart is mine.
Savor mine fragrant quim bouquet,
Hasten naught to evoke love away.
Thine lips meant for exotic kiss,
Which rendering harbors bliss.
Love a fickle sharpened duel sword,
Tread tender less ye be scored.
2/21 for spring is in the air contest
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