Searching in a forest for a tree,
All the same bark and leaves,
Not knowing which one is to be,
So many yet still wanting to believe,
Eyes grow glassy and dull,
Steps are mechanical and timed,
Guarding so close it’s impossible to fall,
Not knowing what to find,
Then came the rose,
Amidst all the dead memories,
Everyday my love for it grows,
So strong it takes my burdens to carry,
The only thing with color so true,
A smell so sweet it shakes my bones,
Wanting alone this rose and nothing new,
This rose is home,

By Tim.


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