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Like a red rose she grows,
In the mind of time,
Swaying on her stem.
A breeze blows plumed petals,
Still fluttering.
Upon this gentle winged wind,
Fragrant like no other,
She sings her bouquet.
Tantalizing and delicate
She glows in the warm light of day.
Arching, purple,
Daughter of a new sunset,
She kisses.
Ecstatic sweetness!
Her petals to these lips,
Fully graced.
©2000 Geoffrey M. Gluckman
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