The Rose

A small rosebud shyly embraced by tender leaves
Sleeps and dreams of the summer to come
As under the maternal sun, warmth around her weaves
Only a slight smudge of pink, innocent and winsome
Yet gentled within nature’s care she becomes brave
Peeking out, dressed in her plush best, she shouts to be seen
The drifting winds tumbling by, pause to watch her wave
The rose, abundant in her hot beauty, luxuriant against green
A scented cloak is wrapped around her, a sensual sweet blend
The full-blown rose bows her head to accept her crown of thorns
She pauses for applause as her final show begins its end
The sky weeps, the leaves fall and the garden sadly mourns.