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like trees in Spring or
like the red roses when they are in full bloom,
here is my love again,
waiting to be admired.
I can say I have forgotten that season,
I've been removing thorns.
but at the end, I always comeback to the same point
cherchez la femme!
Not that I don't try
It's just that I still care
I still wait, I'm still in flames
this is not a bed of roses but still a bed.
I look for your sweating hands,every night.
your rolling eyes, and your whispering sonnets
I look for the way you still cry
I look for that butterfly sensation.
Copyright © Ruth Miranda | Year Posted 2010