A rose always dies

A red rose blooming to its full,
Standing there in all its glory,
Drinking in the suns warmth,
Telling the future of a poets story,

Every day when the sun would rise,
She'd go and sit down by the rose,
Writing down all her dreams,
And ones she wishes for those,

She'd stay there 'till it got dark,
Then she'd pack up and leave,
And every night the rose would wait,
With its heart on its sleeve,

But one day she didn't come,
And the rose began to wilt,
Its tiny petals fell off,
Then she came, and was filled with guilt,

The poor girl's story,
Was then thrown away,
Cause it was about the rose,
But roses never ever stay.

Written by Makalah Sept. 28, 2008