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The Rose

'Tis the rose that wants to live that rails against the frost, tightly closed, the petals warm the Autumn heart that summer lost. The dew that drips from rose to leaf like tears from cheek to breast, once was cold, now shimmers warm to earn, at last, its rest. The blackened bud, once struck with cold appears to others dead, but burns within, a passionate soul and heart of bright and crimson red. And bursting forth it cannot hide the will to live within. Its bold and subtle softness tells, persistent hearts can win.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017




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Date: 3/4/2019 8:06:00 PM
Beautiful descriptions. I love the way you tied in the last line.
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Date: 11/8/2017 8:15:00 PM
I like the roses such a pretty flower. No matter what colour it is. have a nice evening my friend.
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Cornish Avatar
Craig Cornish
Date: 11/11/2017 12:11:00 PM
Very kind Darlene but I must tell that this poem has less to do with the rose and much to do with love. Read it in that vein and it will lend something else--hugs
Cornish Avatar
Craig Cornish
Date: 11/11/2017 12:11:00 PM
Very kind Darlene but I must tell that this poem has less to do with the rose and much to do with love. Read it in that vein and it will lend something else--hugs

Book: Shattered Sighs