An Undying Rose
A rose buds-
Reaches its arms
Out into the world.
They are felt,
They are given,
They are sold,
They are picked,
And they describe love.
It grows as petals do,
Fair, lovely, and bright,
Then wilt, but are not done...
They cry petals-
As they fall,
The rose will recieve
Special care
Or be thrown.
The love that they had
Is cherished
In a sweet scented potpourri,
To be kept forever.
I love you in this way.
Copyright © Josey Portas | Year Posted 2007
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