The Rose
My first foray onto the stage my freshman year
I played the part of a journalist in only one scene
so I understood why no one I knew would attend
By my last production as a senior
I was the star of the show but you’d never know
After delivering my last line
the curtain falling for the final time
I waited with the rest of the cast backstage
as their families and friends flooded in
complementing their performances
as they filled their arms with flowers
scenting the air like a florist shop
while I stood solitary, my own empty
Leaving the building I saw a single rose
lying on the sidewalk that had slipped
from someone’s bouquet
on their way to the parking lot
Picking it up I inhaled its perfume
as I walked the dark streets alone
back home to discover my mother
wrapped in a robe reclining in her rocking chair
like an old lady though she was only thirty five then
smoking a cigarette in front of the TV
my father fidgeting with his toy car collection
neither saying a word as if I were a ghost they couldn’t see
I grabbed a glass from the cabinet in the kitchen filling it from the sink
inserting the stem of that one red rose which wasn’t meant for me
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