The Rose

T'was a beauteous morning I stood there adoring, the florists flowers finest. From outside I peered as a little I feared- may come down with a pollen puffed sinus. That's when I sighted hence truely delighted; a blossoming rose differentiated. Dashed in and out to purchase the sprout, which completely captivated. Studied it's life every day, every night, peeling-petals naturally. With no sense of age though still did engage, loving and living life's tapestry. Though something I noticed-the colours were deepest, the prettiest of all at the later... Some said 'dying', though I knew from the spying, The rose near the end, gave the greater.