Roses
The brilliant red of the roses
Touched by the morning dew
Beckons to the passer by
To stop, and enjoy the view.
Beside the other flowers
They really can't compare,
No one ever looks at them
But for the rose they stop and stare.
It's fragrance is superior
To any of the rest,
It's colour so enriching
When put to any test.
So when you gather roses
And your hands get scratched, and torn,
Remember beauty can be shallow,
Embedded with prickly thorns.
Lynn Barany
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