Rosebud Poem by Erica Kuharski

Rosebud



Mourning dew sets in from last nights frost
You sit awaiting the sun
Ready to Bloom a new
But frost steals your beauty
With withered leafs you are dying
A sharp blade rubs against your stem
You roll to your misfortune
Dead
And alone

Erica Kuharski
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
poem poems dying
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Rosebud
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