SWEET TALK

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SWEET TALK


Out in Arizona my Dad grew roses,
He always espoused the great merit,
Loved to say
How he enjoyed cultivating his own garden.


That spot he tended along side the house,
It was the love of his retirement.

I saw those roses disporting,
Performing and they were real pretty,
But I must say aloud,
They never flowered, like you
Like you, my beloved.

This verse is term of endearment.