Roses: As do I

November 13, 2007
Roses seem to speak to me,
As they open their petals,
On a bright,
Clear day.
As they close their petals,
On a dark,
Dreary day.

They shatter when crushed,
As do I.
They hide when scared,
As do I.
They smile when happy,
As do I.
And they tear when sad,
As do I.

When picked,
They let out a small,
But hearable scream,
As do I.
But they calm down soon after,
Because they know,
That they’ll be loved,
And ever,
As do I.

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