Wilted rose rotting in the garden
Winters approaching the ground has hardened

It’s cold and wet and the wilted rose
stands bent over in a lazy pose

Her petals have turned dark and brown rotting, in that garden ground

That wilted rose is all alone
hunched by little garden stone

No one thinks that rose is pretty
Stands bent over in the city

All the cars go past the rose
Watching it as it doesn’t grow

Petal falling out a day at a time
Wondering if that rose could have been mine