About the Poem
The rose fits into everyone's life. Everyone can take something different from this poem.
I watched her disappear,
as the summer sun began to fade;
not to see again 'til next year.
Could this be what God has made?
The morning wind is welcome;
now the earth is snowy white.
The skies are the heavens;
at least I think they might.
I begin to see my friend again,
the one I had just made.
Every year life greets her
with the springtime's sun and rain.
The streams are clear and blue;
forever they may run.
The mornings bring dew;
the winters bring sleep,
and the cool crisp winds
make her weep.
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