Leo Warne

November 9, 1998 - Kansas

White Rose, Red Rose

A White Rose born into our world,
then into pain she is hurled.
That youthful smile disappears,
because of things that she fears.
The day to day pains that come her way,
in her own life she has no say.
She shrinks back and hides,
from a world so unkind.

Her angels have fleed,
She'll have one last deed.
The voices of us all,
break the fragile China doll.
Thoughts of what could have been,
and crimson red stains ivory skin.
A gravestone for all her woes,
here we lie a lost Red Rose.
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