By Jeannette Villatoro 2010 ©
Oh, withering rose
Whose beauty remains
Yet only a microscope
Can view past the pain.
How delicate you are
Once fleshy and sprite
Now brittle and desperate
And begging to fight.
So curious, those petals
Once red but now brown
A withering stem
No nourishment found.
Oh, withering rose
Your scent is no longer
...The musk of death
Now lingers and ponders.
So curious, though
Your thorns aren't defeated
Still packed with a prickle
While you are depleted.
Yes, withering rose
I sense who you were
The echoes of beauty
The remnants endure.
The cycle of beauty
That laughs in your face
Can still, my dear rose,
Within you be traced.
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who are you??????????????????????
ReplyDeletethats pretty dear, very creative. Thank you for sharing... huggles Tim
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