11/5/2025 for Quatern - Old or New Poetry Contest sponsored by Joseph May
I was a tender, fragrant rose, free and beautiful to the eye - and, likewise, pleasing to the nose. One February, I would die - massacred on Valentine's Day, I was a tender, fragrant rose. Why did we give our lives away - my sisters and I, tied with bows? 'Twas only fickle fate, that chose a boy to love a pretty girl. I was a tender, fragrant rose who died just as I would unfurl - all for a love that also died, wilted, stole by a wind that blows - forgotten, after those two cried. I was a tender, fragrant rose.
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