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.
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