Roses

Fri, 05/17/2013 - 08:40 -- Marse

I am a beautiful blooming rose that is being picked of its peddles every time life hits me hard.
"Your mother's in the hospital" one peddle drops
"Your grandmother died today" two peddles drop
"Your college application was denied..." three peddles drop
"I'm afraid your child isn't going to make it..." four peddles drop
"I'm sorry, but your husband won't be coming home today..." five peddles drop
"We're going to have to put you in the nursing home now..." six peddles drop

I'm old now and my roots are dry.
only one peddle left, after that, I'll die.....

But that's the funny thing about being a rose,

wherever you go,

you leave a little encouragement to say,
"I've been here" and
"I MADE IT" and
"YOU can MAKE IT TOO"

Good thing life gives us sooo many peddles.....

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741