• A Blue Rose


    A blue rose,
    There's one in my garden.
    A treasure you say?
    Perhaps.

    It grows on the edge,
    There, past the chrysanthemums.
    It's a stray and strange rose,
    All alone.

    It's in bloom,
    But the color and plant are fading
    Year by year, wearing down,
    Tired.

    Is it my fault?
    Should I, the gardener, have taken better care
    To prune and water it, to care?
    --Silence--

    Maybe, just maybe
    It would thrive in a garden of blue roses.
    Alack, of those there are none.
    Why?

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    A blue rose,
    There was one in my garden.
    Where is it you ask?
    It died.