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Why so silent? It's probably not what you expect when you think of a grave. Written after the death of a family friend, but it's taken me a while to post. I return reviews
Why so silent, sweet red rose?
Why do your petals fade?
Your leaves with ice are heavy weighed,
and lost in winter snows.
Why so silent, sweet green vine?
Why do you cling so strong?
You know not where you will belong,
but through the thorns you twine.
Why so silent, sweet black thorn?
Why is your touch so cruel?
You, shadowed by the rose's jewel,
must bear the maiden's scorn.
Why so silent, sweet white maid?
And why are you still weeping?
Your tears fall for one ever sleeping,
who in his grave is laid.
Why so silent, bitter snows?
Why must you be so cold?
You make a strange sight to behold,
blanketing grave and rose.