My Mystical Black Rose
Did I tell you the story of my mystical black rose?
Well let me
In my troubled nights I took comfort in the scenery of my old window
One tiny sparkle always shone its way through the darkness, embracing my sorrow
Till the night I decided to visit my sorrow's whisker in the belly of midnight
I wrestled through the bushes sacrificing my blood on the alter of their sharp leaves and thorns
Till my eyes was paralyzed on this black rose that collected drops of dew in its petals and lightened them with the moonlight; that mysterious sparkle now lay bare in my eyes and in my reach for the first time.
I'd never seen black so beautiful, but as much as I wanted to pluck it for myself my heart wouldn't let me, for I was not in love with just a black rose but everything else that made it sparkle my sorrows away; the moon and the dew.
As I left with doubt clouding my mind, I saw its sparkling drops trickle down its petals.
Can a rose cry?
For I live now never to see it sparkle again ever since that night.
I'm different now, beyond need of sparkles for my nights but I always walk to that old window waiting for my mystical black rose to reach my heart again. Even though I might see myself a gray haired man starring in my old window, I'll wait, just patiently wait, for my black rose to come alive again. And this time, just this time I will not think twice.
Read more poems and short stories by The Writer, ezer agyin, here http://ezeragyin.wix.com/the-writer
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