Like a fresh bloomed rose Nature cloaks a young women with a glow-
To attract a mate like a bee to nectar of the rose, new life to grow-
But like time on the fragrance and beauty of the rose-
The sweetness, the glow, the charm slowly goes-
Till like the withering pedals of the once stunning rose the glow disappears-
Time, toil, disillusionment of the knight in shinning armor and earthly fears-
All too soon the withered pedals fall away leaving only a dried husk-
Surrounded by thorns waiting for the pitiful sight to be hidden by the coming dusk-
There can be no renewal with out death, no new life without the grave-
No new birth without Nature taking the life it once gave.
The Ole Dog!
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