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

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Comments
Such an exquisitely apt analogy; what beautiful imagery.
Lovely!
Welcome to Cosmofunnel.
J.
Thank you so much. Your comment means a lot. ?