The Rose
Like the rose
You bloomed in spring,
As summer came
And birds would sing.
The rose's beauty
And it's grace,
Looked just the same
As did your face.
Your sweetened lips
Pressed up to mine,
The taste of dew
Like summer wine.
And like the rose
Your love would fade,
The beauty gone
Like promises made.
And as the rose turned
with bitter haste,
I finally learned
It was a wastes.
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