Roses Poem by Paul Reed

Faded rose
Sitting high upon the bush
Having surveyed all around
You are falling apart
Edges crinkled and browning
Rain-soaked and softened
Your race is run;

New rose
Sitting low upon the bush
Surveying all around
You are crisp and complete
Cupping the rain
Then colours strong in the sun;

I cannot bring myself
To sever the spent rose
To dispatch you
To not see you anymore
In your old age;

So let your petals fall
One by one
And lay upon the grass
Let them lie there
In sad coverage.