Sanctuary

Now to tell the tale of what I sowed,
Of lawns and trees and roses, stones inlaid.
How proud I was of all that I had grown,
A vacant lot to sanctuary made.
The roses were my fav’rite, and I dreamt
Of climbing stalks and blossoms bursting tall.
My winter reveries and summers bent
On nurturing those sunny faces all.
But only flowers three came forth from green,
And two were taken early by a frost.
The one surviving rose, I pressed between
Two parchment leaves, e’er blind to what I’d lost.
My promise darling one, this day I give
To you, to watch you grow, to see you live!

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