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Irony Of The Rose
A touch of silk upon her petals now
A gift of beauty to her endowed
Leaves of green surround her bloom
Intoxicating us with her perfume
But as soft and tender this beauty fair....
Let wandering fingers be aware
I speak of the irony of the rose
And the thorns upon her that protectively grow
Every beauty needs a protector
From wind and rain and curious prospector
And tempted you may be to touch her skin
Remember the irony of the rose hidden within
~THE FLOWING PEN~
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