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The cares, the hurt, the dust of strife
Soil and deaden the pulse of life.
Day by day our hearts weigh down
And all our hopes in sorrow drown.
Yet, beauty lies in simple things,
In flowers bloom, and swallows’ wings.
And there is healing come to bless.
Let gentle rain our skin caress.
Wash our sadness, wash our woes!
Spring bliss and peace within us grows.
© Patrick A. Rose.
Feb. 6, 2019.
Written for a friend.
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