Life is a rose
In the Spring of my childhood
I am a perfect little rose bud
Sprinkled with dew
Innocent and new
Waiting to bloom
In the Summer of youth
My delicate petals
Perfume the breeze
Attracting the bees
Basking in the brilliant sun
I radiate beauty and joy
The world is all mine
In the Autumn of middle age
My petals start to droop
And their colour begins to fade
They are reaching the end
Of their glory days
As Winter sets in
The twilight years begin
My poor bruised petals
Are starting to wilt
My fate is sealed
As they drift down to earth
Anne Deborah Morgan
September 2009
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem