The Rose

A mushy love poem

Their love grew under the warm summer sun;
Each petal red, velvet,
Soft as the kisses they shared
With a fragrance as sweet as the whispers of “I love you”
And every petal lay as close and contented as she in his arms.

On autumn winds the petals drifted away,
Leaving only the painful thorns.
Now only a distant memory
She wonders
Was it only the petals that she loved,
Or was it The Rose