GOOD-BYE, AMERICAN BEAUTY


You picked me from a bush

blooming with roses.

I felt honored to be chosen,

carried away in your safe hands

from the danger of thorns.

At first, you held me gently,

savoring my sweetness,

showing me — your rare find —

to others.

With time, my youthful blush faded —

I began to wilt,

and hands that once caressed

soon crushed

my tender petals.

Little could you have known.

roses like me thrive on tenderness.

**  Kim Kathleen Terry **

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