The Rose
Drip
Drop
Drip
Drop
The beer falls from the bottle as if it were rain.
Arguments replay in my brain.
The rose is put in the bottle of beer.
Many would give it a look of leer.
The rose is slowly dying.
I have stopped trying.
The rose is gone, so am I.
The wind seemed to let put a sigh.
The old house seemed to cry.
All because I didn’t try.
Copyright © Izzy Dizzy | Year Posted 2022
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