A Black Rose
By DeeNekura
This black winter rose, died long ago She's weak and she's withered, all covered in snow Once she was red in her beauty and glory Her now wilted pedals can tell her long story. The sun was so fond of her delicate face And the wind sang a song of her delightful grace The moon and the stars would dance for her pleasure And each little child beheld her a treasure. But winter would come and this she knew well The bleak and the cold, her own icy hell She drank the last sunlight, and took a last breathe The following white morning, her wintery death...umm.....just wrote it in school Written February 26th, 2002 © on Feb 26 2002 08:15 AM PST 0 • 1
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"This black winter rose, died long ago ..."