May 1, 2020

The Rose

The Rose* by Emmanuel Otieno Obwanga   The wind blew , Trees that made it due, Shackle shackle like spree, The goose leapt with dew, Cold and breezing, Dancing with joy amazing, The old man , Holding his gun, Bold like gold, Fought and wrote, “My youth” Strong and uncouth, Still bright and clear, Shine

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