The Loss of a Rose

I watched a rose grow Far down the last row Guarded it as it grew From the strong winds that brew As its branches did sprout Its thorns spread out piercing my hand when tending I left to tender to my sore wounds When its flowers did blossom It left its sepal's bosom Conspicuous and beautiful to the eye Its scent burning the noses of insects So the bees,wasps and birds paid a visit On its sweet nectar they made a feast Some dusting its petals with dirty dust collected from other plants that ailed And the dust became a worm that attacked from deep within making it wither as days went by and the rose dried to death