The Cries of a Rose Bud Blooms
By: Adam M. Snow
A night still, yet full of pain,
A night of terror of everlasting rain,
Falls gently upon dreams of dreams,
Upon hopes and life, so it seems.
The cries of a Rose bud blooms,
A cry, trapped in many tombs,
It echoes through time in darkness still,
In a world of hurts and timely ill.
Purge the dark, the timeless hour,
How therefore safe to be a flower,
A flower by name of Rose,
And a tear drop of many woes.
So saddened of the future past,
Fear of dark, the shadow cast.
A Rose cries forevermore,
Another thorn for her to bore,
But for every petal that must fall,
A new thorn must bare all,
Whether be or whether not,
A journey time long forgot,
A journey, soon to end,
In a season of fall, time amend.