Red Rose

Red rose – in a silken cage
Woven slowly – taken time to age
The rose wove it – over the years
To protect herself – from her own fears
The silk was woven – state of the art
With schemes, intrigue and blackheart
But the rose – her vitals can not deny
Or soon the rose – will dry and die
Alone in the cage of – silk and twine
Dry, arid, crumpled, fallen, gone…..
Xox
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