The Rose
The emotions of the rose paint her petals with ease and care.She lets her thorns sharpen themselves,
For the preditors who seek to destroy her.
She lets her head fall forward slightly in relaxation.
Spring is here.
The air and sun sooths her aching leaves.
She's been asleep for far too long
She must get used to the blinding sunlight once again.
Most of her petals wont last the year
She will sadly have to let her precious masterpieces drift away.
Slowly, one by one, they will find a place to settle down in
And they will let theirselves deteriorate into the ground.
The rose mourns for her losses.
They defined all that she was worth.
They made her beautiful.
They were her.
Too soon will the rose have to turn in for the months of winter.
She doesn't want to go; she holds on until she can't hold anymore.
She will wilt; fade away.
And all that will remain are the broken down petals she used to love so much.
Poetry by Sarah Mae~
Read 634 times
Written on 2009-10-11 at 03:29
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