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THOSE ROSE PEDDLESThose rose petals "My pen drips of sorrow and on this paper, I write each tear" . He was my treasure,my pot of gold. When he passed and it made my blood run cold. They laid him to rest so we put him in the ground. The rose petals in my hands I through them all around. My heart was broken when they said he died. His rose petal covered casket is why my eyes will never be dried. Teresa Skyles 13-Aug-11 Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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