An Old, Wilted Rose
Through wherever life takes me, and whomever I meet,
And whatever life makes me, either bitter or sweet,
I've not one further doubt 'twill all end in defeat,
There's no pleasant way out, save to die in one's sleep,
But I won't scream or shout when life breaks and forsakes me and shakes me about,
I'll most likely slump over in my aged leather seat,
With no one to gloat on and nothing to tout,
Save this poem I've written, (of which I'm quite smitten) ,
And an old, wilted rose at my feet.
poem by Joshua Dinkin
Added by Poetry Lover
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