Orange Rose

I look at the Orange Rose
That was given to me
A long time ago

There are indentations
And marks
From being old and handled
So I pluck the petals off

The weaker it gets,
The more I pluck off
The less the flower becomes

When it is down to the last few petals,
I notice something
They never wither
They never wither away

The flower used to be strong
But now it is weak
From the abuse of being used

But
No matter what happens
There still will be a little left
A little left to keep you smiling
A little left to keep you happy
A little left to keep you living

The Orange Rose can never die
It will live on
Even if it is trampled on
I am the one to have to keep it living

Give it some water
Give it some hope
Give it light to feed on...