MichaelBeverly

When the last rose blooms, i will pick it for you,My one true person, i hold to my heart,The one, who i look at and say, oh my,She is the blossom, infront of my eyes.I think of the times, the days, the hours,When i stare at her picture, visions running awild,And as the last rose dies, So does my love for her, running away,as if a wild stallion has come.And as the new season approaches,I try my best, at another attempt, to find the best.Another attempt, another fail, What am i, a og...