The Rose
The rose it is an alluring thing;
In colours bright that make you sing.
It’s scent is that of sweet perfume,
That wafts indoors thro’ every room.

It brightens up the darkest day;
Cheers the soul in every way.
If it would thrive for ever more,
I’d  dance upon my carpet floor.

Its head is down I cannot see,
The face that once looked up at me.
With petals brown its dying fast,
Its time of beauty has just passed.