Always A Rose

Always A Rose She is a withered rose, lying forgotten amidst younger blooms Once the favored jewel in a tapestry of colors Her perfume no longer dances on the summer wind It seems like only yesterday She bathed in the warmth of life Now her crystal blue skies hide in slumber Behind bitter cold blankets of gray Her tears trickle like rain off her cheek As she realizes soon her sun will set With pride she displays her last bloom Her stunning beauty proves she will always be a rose