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. Red.
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
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!
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.
Allen
In Spirit,
Bear