the rose

the rose                            

that day I saw it a single rose                              for I should have left it there

standing all alone                                                 to share with the world its beauty

sitting with the crows                                           but now a wilted rose I bear

in the field that's overgrown                                 all because I viewed that rose crudely


it look rather lonely sitting there                         and now I sit in that field

with only the crows and weeds                           watching all its beauty fade to just a ray

I approached the rose that held my stare            using ignorance as my shield

my expectation of beauty it supersedes              for on the ground the rose I lay


as I gaze upon it I wonder               then I stood  

who left it here                                                    and I walk away

as I sit and ponder                                                now I finally understood

are there others near                                             true beauty is already where it should stay


then as I watched the rose

suddenly I noticed the stem

when I saw it immediately i froze

for there was no thorn upon this gem


a rose without a thorn

what a shame

for the light upon it did adorn

that rose that was not the same


so delicately the rose I picked

as careful as I could

for the stem I just barely nicked

however that rose had been misunderstood


once picked the rose began to die

and I watched its beauty fade

the crows suddenly did fly

and I knew then the mistake I had made



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