Roses Are Red

Roses are red, thorns sharp and unkind,

Love bloomed in spring, leaving memories behind.

Smiling eyes met, whispers sweet and low,

Promises exchanged, a future aglow.

But summer's warmth brought doubts to the door,

Jealousy's whispers, affection no more.

Words turned like blades, trust cut to the core,

Petals once vibrant, withered and sore.

Autumn's chill wind scattered fragile trust,

Love's once strong bond turned to ashes and dust.

Winter's cold grip locked hearts tight and deep,

Frozen and broken, dreams forever asleep.

Roses are red, a reminder they stay,

Love's tender touch can fade with each day.

Though thorns may prick and beauty departs,

The echo of fragrance still lingers in hearts.