My Faded Rose
By John A. Wilson
The petals of the rose are wilted now
The heavy hand of time has left its mark
The once-proud head begins to stoop and bow
The bright red petals are now turning dark.
The bright green leaves are now drawn and curling
The thorns once so sharp, have now lost their edge
The beauty lost, the flag now furling
Their undying love no one stands to pledge.
I could have kept the rose just like it was
Pressed `tween the leaves of some forgotten book
Freeze it in time like a botanist does
Its soul would be dead but not its new look
But my love's still strong for the fading rose
With all her aches and pains and aging woes.
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