The Rose
The rose is damaged,
Never again to be placed in the hands of our love,
Now thought of as a last connection,
Of our two forbidden hearts.
The rose is gone,
But not forgotten,
As it holds a key to another time,
Where it bloomed for you and I.
The rose is beautiful still,
Even in its absence I see its reflection of our love,
Our joined hands were disallowed,
But the rose we held so sacred,
Will still grow in a field of you and I.
Copy Right 2001