The rose is dying,
winding around and wilted.
The rose is falling, falling,
from it's perch so high on the terrace.
The rose is getting colder,
freezing and wilting and dying.
The rose is left alone,
for no one else to find.
The rose is changing colors now,
it's darker, darker.
It's shriveling up, this rose it is,
it's getting smaller, smaller.

*The Rose Is Dying...
Can We Save It?