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The RoseThe flower of virtue and love, blossoms in the early morning to the life giving moisture of dawn. Buds of red and yellow bursting forth in the warmth of the new born day. Sparkling diamond dew drops, accent their beauty in the early morning sun. Each rose a reflection of life renewed. Fresh, clean and alive, like a promise of hope just newly arrived. The Rose. Jackie R. Kays ©05 Note: I'm sure you noticed, this poem does not rhyme. To force it to rhyme, I felt would rob it of its meaning. Vote for this poem
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