Get Your Premium Membership

My Mother was like a Rose

My mother was like a rose beautiful at sight frail to touch. She could stand up and say her mind. She needed love I feel like she never got any. And that’s why she withered away like a rose. Her heart was pure, her soul made of gold. She’d rustle in the wind, and hide when cold, much like a blooming rose. Day by day a petal would drop ‘til nothing was left. She was the dying rose. And as each day goes by without her sweet melody, I tell myself this: I must not cry that she is gone but smile, she was here. Written by my 10-y.o. daughter Payton

Copyright © | Year Posted 2010




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

Date: 6/18/2010 6:32:00 AM
This was written by my 10 y.o. daughter in tribute to her mom who died 2 years ago after a very long, painful, awful struggle with anorexia/bulimia. Watching her waste away was very traumatic for my daughter, but she is a remarkable human being. I always thought I had a little talent with this poetry stuff - until she let me read her stuff! If I ever get to the level of my daughter, then I will consider myself a good poet.
Login to Reply