Limp, faded red roses cry
Darkened way dry
Drooping over buds
Purple in dead, blood
On dried-out, green stems
Shedding petal gems
Though sometimes with agony
With sense of irony
Crusty and dusty
With fragile tumble
Ready to crumble
With one bump
In a fitting clump
O' but sentimental value
Will never fade in view
© daniel miltz
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem