Red, Red, Red is my Rose,
in a glass bowl it sits.
On a plain table, round and brown.
darkening bit by bit.
Bright, Bright, Bright is the sun,
brightening as it grows.
Up in the blue, sky so high
A shadow to my Red Rose.
Dark, Dark, Darkened to black,
The petals all start to fall
onto the table, round and brown.
No longer bare at all.
The round, brown table no longer bare,
sits in a relative peace.
The rose petals fallen, sweetly, neatly
My Red Rose, Limp and Deceased.