WINTER ROSES
Angry velvet night,
Curling her lovely lime light,
Alone a soul stride.
Amid filthy rain,
Lightning her thunder shower
Rivers of tearflow.
Heavy his footsteps -
So light before drenching flight,
Dancing pair of legs.
Behind roaring loss,
A feeble sound ringing bright,
"Well played, never mind."
A figure so light,
Waiting behind the crowd,
Winter roses swayed.
Won seventh in WINTER ROSES Poetry Contest -Mystic
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