The Woes of a Rose
Her crimson petals wept to ransom hope,
they bore a sadness that no flower should-
Craving medallion and learning to cope
with the solitude she always withstood.
She desires the mending of her dull wounds,
those wilted and dried up petals weeping-
She felt such despair after she was pruned,
hoping she would be picked for safekeeping.
Daylight ascends and she opens with force,
for she tried so hard to conceal her woe-
since her blades shriveled she carried remorse,
now dying in Autumn, not letting go.
For there’s beauty held in a crimson rose,
even though she withers her love still grows.
Not Just Any Old Rose
August 1, 2018
Copyright © Lu Loo | Year Posted 2018
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