Reflections on the old year

December 27, 1993|By Diane Jacobs

I had the tunes of songs

to make me weep for joy

and lauds of flowers, fragrant, lush

and full to bloom.

The melodies I could have hummed

The buds I could have grown within

But frail and foolish --

pondering --

I dwelled within a hopeless thing

While music taught the rose to sing.

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