Roses
One dozen roses
Twelve beautiful stems
Red pedals upon them
All twelve are condemned
We mindlessly pick them
When they catch our eye
To enjoy their soft beauty
While they sit and die
This happens in life
We find our own rose
Then pick it, not knowing
The slow death we then chose
When you find what you love
Don’t pick it too fast
Be patient while it grows
So it’s beauty will last
D.R.L.
Copyright © Dillon Lewis | Year Posted 2019
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