The Rose

Lay down the spoon and still the hand that shakes the smell of cooking mixed with that of fear eyes reddened, wide, haunted expression make await a fury fuelled by drugs and beer. Self worth crushed long ago by vicious tongue of loving parent's warning took no heed her bruises say they were right all along in symphony with her both their hearts bleed. On garden bench she sat and sought recess bent forward, hands clenched, pinned between her knees fighting to quell the tightness in her chest belaboured heart rate slowed, she drank the breeze. Before her, nodding back in sympathy once cuttings, propagated in their bed now standing proud amidst the greenery a solitary bloom in vivid red. Years past they graced the altar, happy day the ceremony over, left in peace one rose remains from times when love held sway companion for her in rare times of peace Plucked ,she held the stem and asked the flower 'through which door and how long 'till real love comes? Pray, am I to languish in his power?' the answer in the red bead on her thumb. Conclusion come to and no need to speak With fingertips she brushes back her mane resting the scented blossom on her cheek Unwary petal catches salty rain. Viv Wigley 24th October 2015 For 'any sad poem' contest, sponsor- Broken Wings. originally submitted mistakenly as a Sonnet, and have not changed form description to remind me to be more careful in future, for reference.