...

2 views

Rose Away
A rose in weeds begins to wither,
One seen so miracle with it's bloom,
As it's leaves fall to their decay,
Once again returns the field of gloom,

The rich red shade of it's petals turn black,
Shriveled dry it's stem hardens away,
How naive was it ever to be sought,
That such a flower could ever stay,

Fields of weeds they hold no color,
For their presence only meant to deprive,
Stripping away any life that should appear,
Thus we find the rose can no longer be alive,

It's beauty glistened the fields red from gold,
Even though it's time was always slioping away,
A rose in weeds was all I ever could want,
But sadly in the weeds a rose was never meant to stay.

© justin_ur_imagination