The Living Rose
A rose upon the vine too soon will fade;
no matter if the bloom is bleak or fair,
its petals drop, no matter what their shade
and lie forlornly in the garden there.
A rose is just a flower and no more.
Its blossom time of hours far too few;
once petals fade, there’s no one to restore
that graciousness and beauty back to you.
But when we fall in love, the blossom grows;
its perfume lasts forever, and we find
a bloom that doesn’t wither, heaven knows
it will be a thing of beauty in our mind.
If love’s a rose, what color would it be?
Love has no color, save serenity.
Copyright © Ron VanHooser | Year Posted 2025
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment