It all starts like a budding rose--everything is beautiful,
It is beautiful.
The bud begins to open and it feels the warmth of love,
Changes are made--a love is created,
The bud is open--the world is full of glory,
Love is all that exists,
A child is conceived,
Changes become imminent--Life is good.
Soon the Red Rose is Wilting--Wilting all too fast,
Every change is burning out--It is predictable,
The Red Rose Dies.
And all the beauty gone--no more chances,
Love is Dead--It will never be the same.
As each petal floats away in the wind--the reminders disappear as well,
The Love--Never to be remembered again.
Each Petal now brown and ugly,
Remain the only symbols of
A once Undying Love.