The Rose
THE ROSE
Her heart with fragrant beauty shows
The womb her silken hands enclose
But curling fingers edged with gold
Must wither soon as they grow old
And as her petals curl with age
To gently fall like turning page
They will in memory oft repeat
To us a scent that lingers sweet
Copyright © Radical Rooney | Year Posted 2016
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment