The Spinster Rose Poem by Mark Heathcote
The Spinster Rose
Her eyes were like a cabbage-rose
with many an indifferent soul
and although she danced upon the air
her people would stop and stare
for she was all but mildew wilted
at that graceful age of twenty-two
for she was all but mildew-wilted.
When she briered over the hill.
29.04.97
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4/30/2024 7:34:37 PM # 1.0.0.1119
