Solitaire, A Rose
J
James McLain
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The morning rose you touched still stands.
And see how sweet, how sweet this one,
this single one it smells when in the sun?
And each petal falls,
once full when open is now gone.
Each single one by they are young,
like all the rest now gone.
Rare such flowers once were loved,
when blind are cast aside.
To see each loved each every one.
But one not loved by any one.
And loved is this a single one.
Solitaire,
is played by hand then picked,
by wind and gone.
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