Poetry

My White Rose

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My White Rose

 

A heart was meant to give

Unconditionally, without fear

But the world sets in

And the soul makes trades

The Spirit stands by

Saddened as winter trees

Powerless to stop the regression

Knowing the season must pass

Hardness sets in

Warmth to cold

Self-protection as the means and the ends

But the wind blows through all

In the valley and desert

The oil still flows with power

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