The white rose sits on her grassy throne
Her hands are gloved in leaves of green
Her face is as pale as the winter moon
She looks to the sun, lively and keen
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The tears you bring upon my face, the fragrence is that, I know pure grace.
The white rose loves a red rose! What a fine imagination! !
Great write Sophie. I liked the ending with the white rose loving a red rose. Very observant with good imagery too. 10 Claude Davis III