a rose to some a lovely flower
but to me a symbol of life
i started out smooth as a stem
soft, gentle, free of fear
innocence
a few wrong turns made thorns
but no matter i made it through
up the winding path to reach
finally my blossom was found
and my beauty revealed
lovely velvet petals of crimson deep and rich
the scent of love and passion for others
but then my rose was plucked
by a pair of greedy human hands
and one by one i began to fade
my lush red petals began to dull
black as the color of my heart
and one by one began to fall
but only to be shocked
for the thorns you caused in my life
dug into your very flesh
and you were bitten by hope and trust
seeing your scarlet blood you dropped me
into a pile of weeds and brush
but my rose took root
and again began to blossom
this time no thorns for if any on my own terms
and my rose will come to life once more
and you shall never pluck me again
but be forced to see my beauty restore
and know you can never destroy me
© Tara Ljubica Jordan
