by Rebekah Rosie Lang
Friday, December 05, 2003
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My Sister,Kristina, mentioned to me in the car tonight, that when she thinks of me, she thinks of a Rose. She described me in her point of view and I am thus writing this poem as SHE sees me.
Wild vines every where,
A small bud appears,
with thorns on it.
It blossoms into a beautiful rose.
Still protecting the flower,
of evil if it may come along,
The Rose has thorns on it.
It has blossomed.
Written December 5th,2003 9:34pm Central time
All rights reserved Rebecca (Becca) Henry
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|Reviewed by Al Swanson (Reader)
|ross are the king of flowers aren't they R?? al|
|Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado
|what a nice thing your sister, kristina, said about you! you ARE a rose, rebecca! (((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in burleson, karen lynn. :D love you, rebecca! beautiful write!|
|Reviewed by J. Allen Wilson
|Very pretty Becca, what a wonderful comment your sister made and what a wonderful poem you penned.
|Reviewed by Regis Auffray
|Well, your sister inspired something and you've shared its beautiful concept and the love shared is multiplied. That is wonderful. Love and peace, Regis.|
|Reviewed by Carolyn Red Bear (The Bear Paw)
|Yes, a blossom should always have the thorns for protection... excellent write, Becca....
|Reviewed by Marie Wadsworth
|Esquisite. I love roses and I like this poem.|
|Reviewed by Kate Clifford
|I thought you were a sweety!|