The Rose

A child is like a rose bud
With shining eyes full of dew
pearls are the tears that gently fall
to their golden cheeks of hue
but as the rose is weathered; by the sun, the wind and rain
youth is slowly taken and can never return again
but you should not be sorry; a rose will always die
to give place for fresh new rose buds
to bud... to bloom... to die...

By Anthea


... and so is my facsination with flowers!