White Rose
by Walter Poe

In the storm
Stands the white rose
tumultuous waves
of destruction abound her

Yet tall is the white rose
strong in the face
Of the sensed doom around her
And she does not bow down

Pure is the white rose
In the compost earth
growing eternal strength
in the nights that so hurt

I see not the white rose
She is so far away
But I long to protect her
But only the words can I say

So I send her my words
And my poets heart
To help her when
there is hope to see her through

Be Strong little flower
Your heart will guide true
And as long as you want
I will always talk to you



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Our Dearest Jan,

Long, long before the Internet and telephone came into being, people regularly became tried and tested friends through written communication. These modern day miracles make getting to know each other much easier, and we are thankful for their existence, for we never would have met you without them, Jan.

Friendship is never tested during happy, gay times. It is the test of illness, stress and sadness which binds people together as true friends. We are so very greatful for all that you do and have become to us. You have shown true and very deep caring, compassion, humanity and love to those close to you, asking very little in return.

Very few friends like you come along during the course of a whole lifetime, and we are so happy and fortunate that our paths crossed with yours. We look forward to the day when we will meet in person, where there will be big huggies all around. Our dear friend, it gives us the greatest pleasure to present you with you with this, your own little web site, this electronic white rose.

You are always in our hearts and prayers,

Beate and Johnny
3 June, 2001



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