The Wild Rose

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  • Emotional

    The Wild Rose

    Sometimes hidden from me
    in daily custom and in trust,
    so that I live by you unaware
    as by the beating of my heart,

    suddenly you flare in my sight,
    a wild rose blooming at the edge
    of thicket, grace and light
    where yesterday was only a shade,

    and once more I am blessed, choosing
    again what I choose before..

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    Poetry is what gets lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    dreamlover78’s Poems (3)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    The Wild Rose 0
    True Love 0
    Lost Sight 0