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Oct 21, 2009
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THE GIFT
THE GIFT
Roses butter yellow and crimson red
Resting their head
On leaves iridescent green,
My heart drenched in their sunlight
Blinding despair with hope and beauty.
Lyrics to soothe the fear
Of an end that draws all too near
Calling my soul back to the light
Dying from thoughts sad and unkind
Free now to roam the universe
My spirit, once dead
On beams of butter yellow and crimson red.
— Geremia, Oct 21, 2009
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