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The Bloom

A broken thorn reminds me of

A bloom that I once held.

And seared upon my memory

The flower’s bloom did’st gracefully

Remind me of how gratefully

I beheld it’s color fair.

And now I know it’s history

From that which I was blessed to see

How joy which did so artfully

Breathe out it’s fragrant mystery

And gave to me, a kiss for thee

That colored Rose did’st spare.



Michael Kendrick Brown

 

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