Roses Are Red Poems · Love
Roses Are Red (His Hand Finds Mine)
Roses are red, your hand finds my hand
in crowds, in the car, without thought, without plan;
and that, more than roses, is how I stay sure:
some loves make a fuss — ours quietly endures.
Original poem © QuillOak — free for personal use.
“Roses Are Red (His Hand Finds Mine)” by The QuillOak Editors — quilloak.com/poems/roses-his-hand-in-crowds
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