This delicate, sweet rose seems to fade more & more each day;
As her love ceases...she drops another petal along the thorny way,
Left like dust...just to blow in the harsh wind,
Feeling cast out...it's such a sin,
Dew drops form on petals, as tears do fall,
Each day she feels oh! so small,
The warmth of the sun no longer shines upon her fair;
As she's trying to survive, but is left instead gasping for air,
It feels as if she'll just wilt away... all alone,
Left quite invisible... crushed without love or home.
Spiritsong,
June 9/10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem