Franklin J. Warren

1926 / Prescott, Arizona

The Rose

The rose's first blush fills the air,
With a fragrance beyond compare,
Like a siren song to a lover,
Alluring, a newness to discover!

Her call is heeded and she unfolds her heart,
Her beauty is indeed a work of art,
She calls to many of varied domains,
And to each she entertains!

She has the blush of youth upon her lips,
And to each caller a bit of nectar from her slips,
For them to dine upon that does her bidding well,
And carries upon them pollen for another place to dwell!

Until at last the petals fall,
For her species she gave her all,
Her sweetness now a thing of the past,
She didn't know she wouldn't last!

i find a parallel in the human race,
Youth doesn't know or will not face,
How ephemeral is their time,
For all the pleasures upon which they dine!

The brilliance and beauty of youth today,
Tomorrow's are so far away,
Yet time passes so swiftly by,
it seems only moments until we die!
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