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Monday, 27 February 2017

My Precious Rose

My mother is my precious rose
Whose petals wrap lovingly around me.
Gone are the hurts in life
When she embraces me in her bloom.

From Eve’s garden she grew;
Plucked by God’s own hand.
An angel in my loving eyes
Always watching over me.

Charmed with the brightest of colours
That Mother Nature could nurture.
She is a rainbow
In whose love I flourish.

The sun will always shine on her,
Illuminating her motherly beauty.
Such beauty I hold close,
Be it near or far away.

Her stem will always stand firm,
Supporting me in times of need:
A pillar of great strength
Keeping me always upright.

My mother is my precious rose,
Whose thorns do not prickle but protect:
Entwined in her armour I face the world
To fall at no ones’ feet but my own.

© Andrew Stevenson 27/02/2017

Thank you. Love love, Andrew. Bye.

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