I nurtured it with the love I feel,
by Raymond C. Christian
It's synthetic beauty was not fake but real.
The violet rays which gave it life;
A struggle to grow in it's earthly strife. It draws you deep, its rolls are serene;
By capturing your interest it is so divine,
Giving back its beauty to it's earthly den;
A God made one of a kind. Its love can be seen for miles;
Only it dwindles with each passing day,
As it grows it matches the human trend;
First your young then old, next your hair turns grey,
Only it's precious little life just withers away. It's frail as it passes on a new born life;
A delicate bud will bloom;
As it opens into a flawless portrait of art;
While in its blossoming you have to impose,
To capture the graciousness of "The Rose".