Comments about M.L. Bennett
The Dried Rose
Our love is like the dried rose
No life left inside
All color is faded
But looks the same as when it died
Its stem still strong but hollow
Still holds its fragile face
That once was filled with beauty
But now is lost in time and space
Why did our love die out like the dried rose?
Why did we let it go with time's slow passing?
Petals fall one by one, with time's turning
When love dies, it then becomes like the dried rose