the rose

The rose that bloomed in morning’s light, 
Now withers in the darkest night. 
A whispered vow, a fleeting glance, 
Love’s tender dance, a broken trance.

The heart that once did beat so true, 
Now trembles with a pain anew. 
In every tear, a story told, 
Of love betrayed, and hearts grown cold.

The rose that bloomed in morning’s light, 
Now withers in the darkest night. 
A heart once full, now torn apart, 
With love’s betrayal, the rose departs.