Lay still the rose
That nobody knows
How it got there, or when it was placed.

Green as life
With thorns like a knife
Red blood courses through the petals.

On the ground it lay,
And there will it stay
Lonely, filled with sadness, and dread.

A delicate hand
Reached down, toward the land,
And lifted the rose, scared and frail.

Moments of suspense
A sniffle, and thence
A tear fell down on the rose.

The rose was again lifted
And through the air sifted
To lips, that touched it with care.

Then down it goes
That one red rose
Was replaced in the very same spot.

As the footsteps faded,
The silence, once hated,
Was accepted, as comfort, and safety.

Lay still the rose, that now,
One knows
How it got there, and when it was placed.

On the ground it lay,
And there will it stay,
Silent, crying, and glad.