A Collection Of Life

A Rose For Autumn

If sight were to disappear

I could be loved

We would all be blind

And faith would be enough

The roses could die

And we would never know

Except for the loss

Of a fragrance long ago

My mind is made up

I wish not to see

But just because I can't

doesn't mean they can't see me

I cry and I weep

Through these colorful eyes

Yet no one seems to notice

Or hear my demise

This one rose is dead

But not due to her thorns

She lived a true tale

Of beauty and scorn

I do not envy

Her chance to live no more

She was picked and pruned

Until carrying perfect score

No, death was not her calling

It should've been mine

For her lushness and grace

Were heavenly divine

Yet, when you're a rose

As lovely as her

You get chosen to be given

As a gift to love endure

And so it is my tale

To tell one and all

That I was no rose

But a leaf in the Fall

I was not picked

Out of duty or love

I was placed in a pile

And that was enough.