The Withered Rose

A single, crimson rose, wilted and brown, 

Clings to a thorny stem, on barren, windswept ground. 

Once vibrant and fragrant, a symbol of love's embrace, 

Now a reminder of beauty, lost in winter's cold space.

Petals, once soft and delicate, now crumble in the breeze, 

Whispering stories of passion, brought to their knees. 

Thorns pierce the memory, of laughter and sun-drenched days, 

Leaving behind a hollow heart, lost in love's cruel maze.

Can spring ever return, bring new life to the ground? 

Can a new rose bloom, where beauty once was found? 

Or will the withered blossom, forever remain, 

A testament to love's fleeting touch, and sorrow's endless reign?

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