Withered Rose

Unobtrusive Sun

Mother, Madam,
Fairest friend
I cannot break my bond of thee
Evermore when earth impose
To suffer you no sanctity

Judgement hath no place betwixt
For here stand two the same benign
Squandered in unlearned pursuits
To carry on in blithe sublime

But tender is my heart to thee
Where choice no proposition shows
For vexed I be if so neglect
You thornless, withered Rose

  • Author: Unobtrusive Sun (Offline Offline)
  • Published: July 10th, 2019 05:17
  • Comment from author about the poem: My mother's name is Rose.
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 43
  • User favorite of this poem: b-LAH-que.
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