
Roses are the caretakers of our calm
In that forest of futility which often
Grips us fiercely like a spider’s web
And the body guards of our soul have
Been tardy and have thrown it to the

Dustbin of dreary despair dragging its
Feet: roses might be breeding around
In that school which teaches them the
Sacred creed of concern and caring to
Become the Caretakers of our calm
Doing their jobs diligently so we begin

To come out of the cramping casket
Of woe inside which the hatchet of
Harm hammers away at the heart to
Meet wisdom sitting in some tiny
Wayside eatery at a bus stop and

To befriend it and share a jug of
Lemonade, where hope is the waiter
Who serves up the sweetest cream
And strawberry milk shake to order
And does not charge a penny for it
And only lets the heart beat of
Rhythm begin to sing once more

Beautiful Roses
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yes they are the last lot before summer arrived! thank you!
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