Outside my window grew a rose.
How and why I can just suppose.
A single rose, alone, but proud;
It blossomed wide without a crowd.
It's beauty stood all season long,
Enchanting as a bluebirds's song.
Harvest came, I began to worry
While watching all the squirrels scurry.
I did not want to lose this friend
When nature's season came to end.
I found a pot and soiled it well;
Headed out with the rose's cell.
As I approached I knew regret
Reached slowly so not to forget.
Learned a lesson that autumn day.
Some things are meant to be that way.
For hell hath no fury like a woman scorned
and Mother Nature's child gave me her thorn.