II Poetry Contest: The crisp winds caressed her cheek

by Annie

The crisp winds caressed her cheek
As she ran out of words to speak
She sought a new muse every week
Her mind grew roses when she’d sleep
Arising just to trim the stems
She grew new gardens at nights end
If she embraces when she wakes
Her roses will not be at stake

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2 thoughts on “II Poetry Contest: The crisp winds caressed her cheek

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