BREVITY OF LIFE

The morning wears
A fresh white rose,
Gleaming white on white
From head to toes!

Noonday, the rose
Begins to wilt,
And splotches show
Like a patch-work quilt!

At eventide
The rose is dead!
Its fragrance lies
In silent bed!

©Copyright January 20, 2002 by C. Douglas Caffey