10. Roses

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Reaching into the skies,
Opposite of Demise,
Creation of Life.
Snaking up above, leaves chubby,
Creatures of Beauty.

Enticing smell, truly pretty.
Humans, yet again, cut it down; so petty.

To end one, so enchanting,
Monstrous behaviour, even for our kin.

Roses sleep to humming of bees,
As they make nectar; such sweets.
They sleep to bitter-sweet meadow hails,
Swinging and swaying in slight rains.
They sleep to melodies,
Sang by sun-kissed beauties.

- Silent

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