In twighlight's hush where shadows play,
a garden's secret whispers of a bygone day.
A rose, a vision pure and fair,
white petals soft, with pink edges rare.
Its beauty beckons, a nostalgic sigh.
Echoes of memories, long past, yet nigh.
Summer's warmth, laughter and love in its prime,
all bound within its delicate, perfumed crime.
In this enchanted land, where petals unfold,
a tale of joy and sorrow, young and old.
The white blooms, a fleeting grace,
a symbol of loves tender, fragile pace.
A sunset's glow, upon the edges it plays,
the pink hue deepens, in a gentle, fading sway.
A reminder of loves ethereal charm,
a bittersweet reminder, that beauty disarms.
Yet in this garden, where love's memories reside,
a white rose with pink edges, forever will abide.
-louise-andrea
YOU ARE READING
Roses in the garden
Poetryroses, oh roses, my heart's sweet delight! your beaty and scent, my soul's warm light. in your petals, i find loves gentle embrace a symbol of passion, that fills my heart with grace.
