The Dawn Of Day Poem by Jennifer Helton
The Dawn Of Day
In the day of dawn
they creap up,
unto the blistering sun.
They twist and they turn
until they grow till no more.
The colors of many
roses red as can be.
some poke some lean,
but never fear they all smell good.
On the dawn of day,
they creap up to play.
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4/18/2024 6:12:56 PM # 1.0.0.1119
