Rose Bud
Every sign tells me to seize the day,
And to gather my rosebud while I may,
But my rosebud smiles back ever so gay,
And blooms and dances without as much a dismay,
Carefree and indolent in her own special way,
That I stop short in wanting to take her away,
And leave her un-plucked till another day.
But the signs also remind me of the price I'll pay,
Of procrastinating, of not making hay-
The same bud that is smiling today,
And resting peaceful and at bay,
Caressed now by the gentle wind a-sway,
Will soon wither asunder and away!
Copyright © Le Incendié | Year Posted 2006
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