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Smelling The RosesSmelling the roses As she stands by the fireplace, Her husband gave them to her With a loving smile on his face. He wrote her a little card And here is what it said, "Think of me every night, my darling Before you lay down your sweet head." She holds the little card Tightly to her heart, Tears stream down her face Because, now they are apart. He had passed away Just a few days before, It was his kindness She truly did adore. Copyright Cynthia Jones Nov.12/2006 Another one of my titles I had written down. Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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