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The Art of Poetry.
My Flower
© January 4, 1995 by Paul M. Combs, Jr. All Rights Reserved

The untamed fields of flowers,
Much like those of the wild gardens of Eden

With its sacred fruits and aphrodisiacs,
Not to be picked likely.

The early morning dew carefully caresses the earth,
Like the gentle touch of a man and a woman.

The full moon passes way to the rays of things to come.