I Watched A Rose Die

I kiss the September rain,
The wind brushing my hair
back, The seed of her will
Sprout and her roots will
never die. Her thrones protect
her as she grows, The violet
in her peddles grow darker
as the rain falls, It runs down her stem. All by herself
listening to the grass
moan over the cold drops
of rain as it hits their roots.
Her roots are her veins and
her stem is her body,
as the bud of her peddles
is her hidden face, and the
peddles are her violet soft
hair, Her thrones are her weapons so she isn't bothered.
Her eyes are the sky, They see all and everything.
I've watched her over the years, from a seed to a beautiful rose,
I've watched her grow so much now she is
wilting, Her peddles are falling off, Her hair is almost gone, Her
eyes dye into a dark blue, Her
peddles turn gray. She was blind, and had cancer. Her rose
was picked, Her roots stopped
growing, Her thorns were useless. I wouldn't
watch No More!