The Rose
Beautiful roses,
Reaching down and grabbing one,
A rose with a word on it,
It said laughter,
I smiled and smelt the rose,
I danced in glee and placed it in a vase,
A million roses couldn’t replace the one I had,
It wouldn’t be the one that made me glad,
But when it died and pricked my finger,
It made me sad,
Like when human life ends,
It spins you in joy,
But in the end it makes you sad,
You remember the memories you once had.
Copyright © Ronald Bunch | Year Posted 2013
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