The Rose
Pretty flowers in rows amongst gardens…
They cling to life as the grounds hardens…
Beautiful roses and subtle hands…
Shivering petals from your touch not knowing where your fingers land…
You hand weaves around blood red and yellow roses…
Plucking the only black one, as it melts in your hand like osmosis…
Gazing upon its lovely and strange self…
Warm embrace and soft caress is what you felt…
Sweet smell and light embrace…
As you pull the rose and caress your face…
Sweet returns as the rose feels your skin…
Throbbing from the rose’s heart that pulses from within…
Simple pleasures from a loving embrace…
And enormous passion and flourishment that the rose felt upon that face…
Fear strikes as the rose is pulled away…
No more warm caress and soft embrace here to stay…
The rose slips from the fallen hand with all its might…
And hit’s the ground and away from his sight…
Shivering petals and dying heart throbs…
As you move on to prettier roses and ignore this loving black rose’s dying sobs.
