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Flowers til Winter

A ring of roses partly knows.
Where trumpets, lilies, gladly goes.

To erst a while on the ground.
To sing a song without a sound.

Wind is running to livily stick.
As neat little dandelions yawn for tricks.

In revilry they all sway and smell.
Into the midnight winter dwell.
Written by MrE (C. R. Powers)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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