Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

Under a tall oaken tree,
Shaded and hidden sat she.
Cast from jaded eyes, Tears fall times three.
Forlorn she whispers of what could be.

“ Weep no more my lady” I ask of she.
“ weep no more my lady” I gently plead.
“ For there hath been a tale just for thee”
“ Tis Legend of the Rose, who weeps.”

“ Thus hath been told through out time”
“ Tis a land where no sun hast shine.”
“ Where in land of no rain grows,
“ Our mystical weeping Rose”

“legend be it, that upon our weeping rose,
“ Shall appear a single tear,
Tis color only known to whom it shows.
For Tis within the color of this tear,
True loves honest intention doth appear.”

“ weep no more my lady,
For now thee shall see,
The crimson tear.
Of the Weeping rose.. “



© 2013 Copyright Dell Anne Raye
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