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Oh,
how
can
we
in
blatant
anger
yell,
and
cast
our
love
aside
for
some
brief
spell
of
discontentment?
Surely,
don't
you
think
these
bleak
disturbances
our
love
can
quell?
The
prickly
thorns
upon
the
blooming
rose
are
but
a
tiny
part
of
that
which
grows
to
fill
the
eyes
with
beauty
and
delight,
with
petals
fragranced
sweet
to
pique
the
nose.
Let
us
not
dwell
upon
life's
small
and
trite
exasperations,
losing
precious
sight
of
pleasure
which
is
well
within
our
reach
to
grasp;
and
hence,
in
reaching,
rage
takes
flight.
Copyright
©
1994
Ruth
Gillis
Received
a
First
Place
Award
in
the
Spring
1994
issue
of
Feelings
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