The Rose

(First thing I ever wrote, circa fifth grade.)

THE ROSE

Green her stem

Green her leaves

Red her garment but then–

I was there on that day in fall

She had lost her leaves, her garment, her all.

But wait! There’s still a hope–part of her garment is still there,

Torn from her heart, her heart so fair.

Then I discovered a very sad thing,

She wouldn’t be back ’till the coming of spring.

 

 

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