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Dear Friend, I want to tell you about Rose,
In rhymes and verses; poetry; the heart's prose.
Rose was kind, Rose was virtuous,
Rose could quieten the impetuous.
Rose could accommodate and could bend,
For, of all folks, she kept me as a friend.
Naturally, I was awed, was stunned,
I cerebrated: it was love, I fathomed.
Since Cupid's arrow cannot be spurned,
I sent Rose my lovebird but it didn't return;
Like Icarus, I had flown too close to the sun,
She loved not me, but another of God's sons.
I was broken I was bruised,
I was seething, black and blue.
I was angry, I felt used,
But there was little I could do.
I was hurting through and through
I was lonely........... .. but found you...
You, my friend, are kind and virtuous,
You sedate me, hot headed and impetuous.
You're brave you're courageous,
For our friendship is crooked and tortuous,
When we are together, no ill can touch us.
But once again, I feel Cupid's glee about us.
Now, my friend, I love you more than words can say,
So I won't say at all, since words would fail.
Too afraid to say "come what may",
I keep my cards to my chest and play
I gamble against fate and rue the day
I developed these feelings too hard to say.
By Akpobome Akpughe
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