The Prince and The RoseA Poem by BazHow the rose got its colour.Once upon a long ago And very far away
The kind but foolish little prince
Went out one day to play
He walked upon the meadow grass
And crossed the silver stream
He climbed high in the forest trees
And stayed a while to dream
But as the sun began to set
Upon the forest floor
He saw a bloom upon a bush
He’d never seen before
The bush was thick with prickly thorns
And on those thorns did grow
A most exquisite stunning bloom
With petals white as snow
Seeing such a wondrous flower
The boy began to sing
And so the little prince conspired
To pick it for the king
So excited was the prince
His heart beat like a drum
But as he tried to grip the bloom
A thorn did prick his thumb
The thorn had cut his finger deep
And when his finger bled
The blood dripped down upon the bloom
And turned its petals red
No more the flower white as snow
And that's why ever since
The rose is coloured with the blood
Of the foolish little prince
What happened to the little prince?
I really couldn't say
For that was once upon a time
And very far away...
© 2014 BazReviews
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