White Rose

This is a poem about why the white rose is my favorite flower.

It has no color, but it stands out.

You'll notice it when you walk by, no doubt.

When you lean down and admire it's lovely perfume,

You'll be anxious for its next bloom.

 

White means purity, white is dear.

This flower expresses this, it's very clear.

It's colorless petals are delicate and fine.

When it catches disease, it shows no sign.

 

When I hold this flower I can feel its bloom.

When I close my eyes, I see this flower sealed in a black room.

I'd like to receive this flower in a bouquet so lovely.

It's presence and smell would nearly sooth me.

 

You should know by now which flower I speak of.

The flower with petals like wings of a dove.

I will say this in case you don't already know,

I'm speaking of the beautiful white rose.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The End

4 comments about this poem Feed