Poetry From The Heart by Barbara Ann Smith

Gift of Life

I pick a white rose:
full of dew drops,
fragrances of mountain breeze,

place it in a vase,
set it in my windowsill,
petals of fine silk.

I return later in the day,
no energy, petals curled--
the dead rose--
awakens my fleeting life.
Our bodies wither and age--
the lively plant is precious.  


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Gift of Life

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