It was a sprightly day in June

and a blue rose blossomed in my garden

amidst full red roses

The tender blue rose

had dangerous thorns,

which pricked at the slightest touch

It survived the spring and the fall

and looked as silky

as the day on which it was born

One sunny day

it was suddenly gone

We looked all over the ground,

the walls and even in the next garden,

but it was not to be seen

and we never had a blue rose again