Friendship(s)

Bushels of yellow rose brink-buds are gathered,

Seasonally they bloom till they are gradually withered.

Dead leaves and petals dropping feebly from their forms,

Leaving one thornless, golden full bloomed  rose.

Such endured beauty is more worthy when admired alone,

For a bushel is no better than a single rose.



Written by Naomi V. (13/11/16)
Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s