A rose smells its sweetest
while death takes it’s toll
as leaves dry and rot,
it grows more powerful.
I wonder, will we shine
Once our time has come to pass?
Reminiscing on our death,
With questions we won’t ask-
Will the world smile on us,
so the wind can carry our scent?
Will we be looked upon in love,
Thorns lost to innocence?
CaliStray 