Bloom of Youth

I held a rose within my hand
 so perfect and so new
 And yet I did not understand 
   It seems I had no clue
  How precious it would be to me
    How soon that rose would wilt
       How fleeting it would seem to be
    And soon I'd feel the guilt
That I had been so unaware
  So blind to what I had
How it would seem so unfair
   How age would feel so sad
 My rose is looking older now
   And while it's not quite dead
  The flower head takes it's bow
    The petals look dark red
  Ironic how I treasure more
    My rose of yesterday
   And still I do not see
     The bloom I hold today