February dribbles - 8
Vines tightened their grip; thorns dug deep; blood dripped like rain on rose-petals. And Sam woke up.
Jean, in rose-colored nightdress, leaned over him. “You were struggling Sam.” Her biting anger soothed by sleep; Sam thought how love’s pale blossoms turn to thorns. Don’t fight. He gathered hope into his arms.
Jean, in rose-colored nightdress, leaned over him. “You were struggling Sam.” Her biting anger soothed by sleep; Sam thought how love’s pale blossoms turn to thorns. Don’t fight. He gathered hope into his arms.
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