Round the year, there was the month of flowers;
Only the flowers made of paper bloom there now.
Once her face was seen among the flowers;
Now there my heart cries having lost her for ever.
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The Month Of Flowers
Poem
Round the year, there was the month of flowers;
Only the flowers made of paper bloom there now.
Once her face was seen among the flowers;
Now there my heart cries having lost her for ever.
