United States
42° 45' 27.5688" N, 78° 46' 13.044" W

Roses are said to bloom in the spring,
Just like every other flower.
Perhaps this year there is a different timing,
For a rose to not bloom this particular hour.

The rose has feelings of the seasons that ebb and flow,
Feelings that this year the flower refuses to let go.
All the other flowers will move on and bloom,
But the rose has chosen differently despite the possible doom.

So time moves forward and the other flowers glow.
They show off their colors and even provide a show.
But alas their beauty has caused them to be plucked,
Placed into women’s hair like bows.
Now dying, they will forever remember the motive of the rose.

Guide that inspired this poem: 



Wow beautiful I really love this poem

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