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Why Roses Cry
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Love of my Life Those dropplets
on the rose
are not dew,
They are tears,
shed because its beauty
pales next to you.
The weight of it tears
causes the bend you see,
Realizing its fears,
knowing your equal
to never be.
To put it out of its misery,
Cut it and put it in a vase,
where its soul is set free
to enjoy you in its place.
No more pining
No more tears,
There is a silver lining
So be of good cheer.
It had its time
its beauty flew,
Cherished its last
moments with you.
Unique perspective, and the poem itself is beautifully deployed.
Starward
Sweet thoughts for the pretty but sad!