Below is the poem entitled The Rose which was written by poet
Eastman. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
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Once upon a time there was a single blooming Rose.
The world rejoiced at all the beauty given her to show.
But as with every rose her time was shortly bestowed.
After, the world felt hollow, so intense did its sorrow flow.
They sought a reminder of the beacon they once did truly hold.
They found a small flower of white that in its purist form did unfold.
The thorns reminded all, that the original could never be theirs again.
But still it did impart hope, for another one, like their virtuous friend.
Eventually the flower was cultured and created into what we hold to now.
For even the present is needy of something so precious to hold some how.
And though no one remembers how the flowers’ name was earlier sown…
It still holds us tightly to the purity, hope, and beauty its known to bestow.
There are many legends that have traveled down to us thru the years.
But there are none so beautiful as the one that became the Rose so dear.