At the start of love,
The rose is only a little bud
Sprouting from the vine.
The sun shines brightly each day,
Giving new hope to the growing bud,
And symbolizing a shining friendship.
When the rose blooms,
an enchanting radiance will emerge,
As friendship grows into a deep love.
As Time itself passes,
Love finally is in full bloom,
And eternally grows beautiful and divine.
But if the rose were to wilt in shame,
Love’s fate will be the same.
Copyright © 2007 by Lizzette Escobar
A delicious and enthralling poem with a wonderfully intriguing and mysterious last stanza.
Photo collage by Cheryl Hanna
Rose photo by Robert Pears/iStockphoto
Night landscape by sharply_done/Veer
