There’s a tale I love to tell;
Of the belle exceptionally gorgeous
Raindrop or dew… against her velvet petals sparkled like a diamond when illuminated by an honored ray of sun.
The breeze daily brushed against her side, just to sneak a light sniff of her sweet, priceless scent.
Her beauty hushed all gloom but doom struck as her petals began to fall, each, with the same grace it hang with, dried and crushed into a thousand beautiful pieces
A rose by any other name…
A rose though withered…
Is still glamorous
Most importantly
It’s still a ROSE
No comments:
Post a Comment