Our Crushed Rose

Upon the hills of England
The brightest rose bloomed,
And people admired it's beauty
But this rose was doomed.

The rose was crushed,
It's petals were torn,
The world lost it's rose
On an August morn.

If it had lived
What could have been,
One can only imagine,
One can only dream.

poem by Claire Chambers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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