There’s a rose in a vase in my hall.
It’s old now, and faded,
But still beautiful.
The petals have wilted,
The stem is no longer bright green.
But it’s in my hall as a reminder,
A reminder that true beauty doesn’t fade.
A reminder of the beauty others see
In the hope that I’ll learn to see it myself.
At times I feel faded and wilted,
But like the rose,
I’m still beautiful.