WHEN THE PETALS FALL FROM THE ROSE

The rose of life is so beautiful,
Such a delicate piece of work.
It fills its place so dutiful,
Living life without a quirk.

It's smell is like the best perfume,
Quite priceless as any from afar.
The joy of living, fills a room,
If it could only be sold in a jar.

Friends and kin and fellowship,
Resemble petals of the rose.
Lives entwined as lovely tips,
Of a rose, whose petals never close.

As the sun sends beams that are burning,
Its words make the petals grow hot.
For cool water they are yearning,
Yet their cries, to be heard, are not.

Then comes the rain in a fiery,
The petals are now crisp and dry.
For they have become quite weary,
The petals start to fall, and to die.

Hordes of insects were waiting,
To tear down this delicate gem,
They were sitting and debating,
Just waiting for life to grow dim.

But the water began to restore life,
To soften each petal with care,
To close the wounds, like from a knife,
To slowly and gently repair.

The petals no longer were falling,
Others, grew stronger, still.
Soon, it seems they were calling,
Showing off their stronger will.

When two or more are gathered,
As rose petals closely grown,
When age and time have weathered,
Silk petals, the winds have blown.

As the rose droops its head from age,
Let it be told, so others may know.
I hurt no man by hand or rage,
When the petals fall from my rose.
Jay Cee ~~ ©
INDEX
Section II
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First Published: 28-Sep-2007 10:30 AM - Last Update: 29-Mar-2013 11:55 AM
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