Close and content is the stem to the rose.
Nurtured by love, in a garden it grows.
I spent part of my life in such a paradise.
Surrounded by love, sweetness and spice.
I believed in my heart, there I would stay,
My wife at my side, till my dying day.
My dreams in life were shattered somehow.
Joy became grief and there's no happiness now.
The rose was severed and taken away.
It lies still and quiet till another day.
It was pressed in the pages of a time gone by.
And when the pages are opened, each time I'll cry.
© 1996 Wayne H. McLaughlin 9311222305-270
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