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تاريخ التسجيل : 16/10/2010 | |
موضوع: Rose On My Table السبت أكتوبر 23, 2010 6:54 pm |
| There sits atop my desk a white rose A great silken blossom larger than my open palm Sustained by something so ever simple as clear Fresh water, unperturbed in a slender fluted glass.
The white rose stands for pure love, she said. My wife, last night, said as we ate supper, I don't know what it means.
And it sits there my White rose, unmoving and steadfast for Weeks, months! I know because I have counted the days - Since she found out My wife, months ago, that I kissed your mind.
It has quietly sat there, my White rose, through the storm front: The wronged love, The gut-wrenching search for soul-truth, The secret, unrepentant conviction.
And now, my poor White rose, now, in the Eye of my storm, in the Deceiving calm - Will you still be there, When the consequences of my Decision come to pass?
Do you know what the yellow rose stands for? she asked. My wife, last night, asked as we ate supper.
It stands for friendship, I said And ate, and Stared at the vibrant, young yellow rose on the table, between us
with love .
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