Red Roses
by Peter S. Quinn - April 10, 1999
All we need, are red roses, to hold on to,
And make each day bearable, like the last;
You know my heart moves onward to you,
Not remembering, hardness from the past.
Each garden, grows flavours of its own
And all the fruits on the trees come again,
There are fruits, on the branches, not full grown,
For fresh water, to the roots, was abstain.
We may sing about sap days, and the sky,
Though only rain ripen the leaves,
That are dry of promises and pleasures.
It is sun and rain that won't let growth die,
If cared with the hands, full of believes,
For love is always, truest of treasures.
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