The Rose

Thorns on a rose stem
They, too, eventually die.
Petals being first to whither and to dry.

Slowly they float
past the thorns onto the ground.
Falling unwillingly, screaming without sound.

The sweet and gentle rose.
It weakens day by day.
Your thorn shall soon follow you
into your early grave.

Darcy Devin

10-17-00

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