Although the rose does not last long,
It always sings the same pretty song.
The scarlet petals wave in the breeze,
Red among the buzzing bees.
The rose’s leaves are curled and green,
They go well with this lovely scene,
The meadow’s grass flows like a stream,
It is like some beautiful dream.
Because the rose is so short-lived,
It does not know the joy it gives,
To everyone who treads this place,
It brings bliss to every face.
Sadly, this rose cannot remain,
And it will die in the first heavy rain.
But this story does not end in gloom,
For in the spring, another will bloom.
Copyright 2008 by Rebecca Norman
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