Dancing Rose
She danced in her crimson dress
Rose, not the flower that withers, she blooms
As she floats with the breeze
Making the flowers jealous.
As of time she froze
And of my heart she conquers
Oh, mother of this pulsing sweetness
I deserve not, this happiness.
Comments
Hi I just discovered poetry
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It's an enchanting and
Regina
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This first class entry has
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