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Smell the roses
Smell the roses
When you’re in an awful hurry and haven’t time to spare
And everything’s a worry you’re rushing here and there
While all the jobs are piling up, there’s dishes in the sink
You haven’t time to wash a cup, you haven’t time to think
Stop... and smell the roses, that well worn old cliché
For sure as little apples, tomorrow is another day.
Copyright ©
Margaret Foster
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