A poem for my daughter - by Violet - a poem for a child

A poem for my daughter

A rose picked from the garden,

In a vase on the mantle,

Will open up and thrive , then degrade,

Eventually die,

Its beauty will demise,

From shocking pink to mottled brown

Thorns removed,

Captured and unarmed,

Its beauty pleases the eye

Never mourned,


But you drawn from me and he,

Set free upon the world eventually,

Absorbing your surroundings


You will last longer than any pretty rose,

Your beauty will grow as your mind expands

From darling bud to marvellous bloom,

Your parting would forever be felt,


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