Nobody knows this little Rose --
It might a pilgrim be
Did I not take it from the ways
And lift it up to thee.
Only a Bee will miss it --
Only a Butterfly,
Hastening from far journey --
On its breast to lie --
Only a Bird will wonder --
Only a Breeze will sigh --
Ah Little Rose -- how easy
For such as thee to die!
Emily Dickinson
Tuesday, 9 February 2010
Mojito
And I'd give rum, mint and lime For an hour of your time
Who knows if you'll think of me again
But I'll wonder how you are and, how, just, for one, short, second, you, made me feel real
Right now I'm finding it hard to keep going, to stay positive and to know how I feel. I want to write about things I can't express to other people directly.
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