Monday, December 18, 2006

Three Poems


As the rose has thorns
So my smile has a barb,
For you I bloom a new name
And done a newer garb.


As the kept flower realizes
       it's fragrance
So too it withers and dies.
The willow bends but does not break,
I close my eyes and sigh.


The whisper of your parting
Like an itch upon my skin,
My blush a faintest sigh
Of our sweet, sad sins.

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