The Little Red Rose
The little red rose, covered with dew, is happy without say.
It briskly swings in the morning and evening breeze all the day.
The sun shines down upon the petals.
A
rose so pretty it deserves a medal.
The wind becomes chilly and strong.
Clouds gather without wrong.
Suddenly,
there is a chilly blast.
The undoubted winter is approaching fast.
The frosty wind shakes
the little red petals.
They become hard as peanut brittle.
One by one the pretty little petals fall down to the hard frozen ground.
The little red rose knows it is time to go away.
Winter is here to stay.
It also knows of a warm sunrise someday soon.
Again it shall bloom.
To awaken with fresh soothing comfort of morning dew rolling down its petals.
With summer winds of the afternoon ,
It will briskly dance again till once more it's doom.
Thomas David Scott
Copyright ©1965 Thomas David
Scott
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