The First Rose Of Spring

Once the petals adorned her bed



Anticipated spring brought a quenching of her thirst



for love and life had bonded marriage in the beauty



of a rose, always the first picked



The meaning clearly strewn upon the satin



Always, the first rose of spring







Nourishment from the Heavens



Simply blessed the rose above the others



Sunshine penetrated the rose leading to eruptions



Followed by tears of joy



Every time anew, virgin like in its partaking



The rose becoming full with content







Through the winters, rains, and pain



Seemed the rose always maintained its splendor



Even the quakes could not shake its beauty



That had been seen, often heard, and always…felt



The bond would always remain



Standing forefront even on cloudy days



To cast its shadow







Then one day, after days to nights, tears to rain



Once again he looked into the window of his heart



The rose stood silent, shimmering it beckoned to him



The sun’s warmth eliciting its tears, they shared the moment



For they both knew, the rose would never, be picked…again


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