We planted roses one Spring day,
As soon as the snows had thawed away.
And, after much endearing care,
By Spring, we found a blossom there.


By Fall, it's 'branches burst aflame,
With passions red, and hearts untamed,
Its' blooms we tied in fair array
To carry on our wedding day.


Each year, we plucked the very best,
And in a book, its' petals pressed,
To mark each year of love and test,
To whom our God had truly blessed.


But, o'er the years, as chores increased,
Our tending roses, all but ceased.
Where once those lovely floras burst,
Grew thorns and branches, dried from thirst.


For Love, (like roses) needs much care
If we're to keep a blossom there.
The need the sunshine and the rain..,
They grow in laughter and in pain.


Now all I have to think of thee,
And the love we shared, (just you and me,)
Is what we gave, and what we took...,
Now, just dead roses in a book.

Written by Virginia Haefner Wark

©2006 Virginia Haefner Wark.  All rights reserved.  Do not copy without written consent from Virginia Haefner Wark.  Contact Virginia.