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Rated: E · Poetry · Nature · #1922537
a short reflection on why we do the things we do


Beautifully, the gentle rose
Under raindrops they do grow
Softly in the morning dew
Shining out for me and you
Petals of velvet, fragrant still
Yet thorns do grace their shaft.
Why then
Do we touch and pick the Rose?
So that it no longer grows
But sits in vases of cold, hard glass
To watch them wilt
To watch them pass
Velvet petals growing pale
Bending, falling
They do die
For fleeting, lonesome pleasure.
Why?
© Copyright 2013 Faye Evangeline (irishprincess at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1922537-The-Rose