Rose colored glass
A shiny pristine crystal mirror
was thine soul in my youth.
As a young man I walked in the fragrant gardens of love,
where red rose thorns pierced my feet,
though the pain was masked by the soothing sensation of velvet flower petals,
smudged red foot prints stained the reflection of my inner most self.
I now see beyond the glare of the sun more clearly,
looking through the rose colored glass of my soul.
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