Student Blog
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Trickling down the roof
I hear footsteps of the rain,
I close my eyes in hope
To see you once again.
Painted in my memory
The song of summer rain,
I close my eyes to face,
A june of earth and rain.
A thing of beauty, the feline
I watch it glides and sways,
A whisper in my ears
Profound wisdom gathered over years.
No point is there in comparing
A belladonna to a rose.
One poisonous, the other protected by its thorns.
Yes, who is to judge,
More beautiful, is a bell flower or a prose.
Trickling down the roof
I hear footsteps of the rain,
My eyes I focus, on the feline,
I watch, it glides and sways.