Born as a bud,
blue, green, yellow, gold,
is my glowing colors as I grow old.
A bounty of beauty on my quest,
...
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Simply beautiful Randy. The imagery of a rose never dies in our hearts of red. I always try to use, and love color in poetry. And you do me proud. I can never understand why white roses became so fashionable, when there are so many simply stunning colors. Great work. Top marks Karin Anderson
so true and meaningful--- a blooming bud first then a bloomed beautiful flower and finally a withered one-- but if one has done his or her good deeds whilst being that flower or bud--- then all the world remembers the fragrance even if it has withered and all the petals scattered. A++++and 10++++ anjali