'copyright' © 99 Katrina
Sitting in a basent listening to the natures lullabye
Momma singing in the distance to her babes cry
Red roses, blood red of heart, for giving child, for giving
White roses of pure innocence, for recieving child, for recieving.
Years passed down by the babbling brooke where hidden roses lay
There sat a child picking the blooming buds of may
"Red roses for me, for him", she chanted. "Red roses for me, for him."
The days grew older, the nights so long
Yet the young girl sat giving all she could.
Her soul played Red roses song.
Skin brusied deep cuts of thorns, running wild blood of heart
Still she sat picking all for him, caught in a lovers trap of cupid's dart.
Now frail arms lay with scars , of emotional wounds.
White roses for recieving child, forgotten all to soon
Red roses lay in the basket. Red roses in a vase.
But white roses still lie unpicked by that babbling brooke.
All beacause she gave too much.
Gave too much.