A rose of different colour stood alone
amidst the grasses on the farmer's land
and in the night when moon and stars all shone
she searched her soul deep down, inside the sand.
...
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Witty anti-'romanticising' of traditional symbol of beauty and perfection. People are a lot like your roses, Herbert, namely ignorant, shortsighted, self-centred (some people, anyway) , ...and all too vulnerable.
This is a great poem Herbert............an interesting ''lesson'' here as well. Wonderful work as usual. :) Sincerely, Mary
I hope this is an isolated incident Herbert, one poor rose, what a way to go, with the odour it was probably dead before it 'hit'! Asphyxiated! Zapped! What a sad poem. Love Ernestine XXX