The White Roses Died With You
Thoughts of loneliness never escape
When roses of red are dead within love
Like the fruit of the wine on vines of grape
Roses of white our friendship has died
Upon the whispers of the shadow who lied
Staring at the flight of this evil little dove
Once so perfect in the inspiration meant
Lost in the darkness of where we once were
Haunted by the memory of the beauty of her
Searching for something that was never sent
For poetry contest Rhyme Time
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