Red Rose
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I picked a fragrant red Rose, dulcet and perfumed soft for you,
kissing the honeyed petals, rich, dark and dripping sweetness;
the sky azure, the sun gold as I press Rose to cheek,
and I gently carry her to you my precious and treasured one.
I breathe in the scent of Rose_ she reminds me of your death,
while melodious birds sing songs in low tweets of respect.
Oh, there is a silence that wraps around my broken heart,
and red Rose is wilting in my hand_ she hangs her head dying;
as I weep and lay her on the garden grave of my beloved cat.
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March 10, 2021
Poetry/Imagism/The Red Rose
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1335-548-10
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2021
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