For a time it is wonderful.

It's smell fresh,
It is soft to the touch.
The sight of it brings peace.

After a while the rose will whither,

drying up until the smell is gone.

The sight is appalling.
It crumbles to a gentle touch.
It is no longer beautiful.

A rose, like friendship,

has a purpose.

to provide beauty,
a meaning to life.
Then, a lovely memory.