Dear Rose

November 24, 2017

Dear rose,

You sit,

In your dark and dirty water.

It exists,

Just barely in the jar.

Mold floats,

In that repulsive filthy bile.

Your leaves,

Wet slimy peeling.

That stem,

A grim shade of green.

Your petals,

Perhaps once red

Now black

But somehow you’re not dead.

Decay surrounds,

But

there

You

Sit

Waiting for redemption rejuvenation

A helping hand or two

To pluck you out of this concoction

Of muck and goo.

In the midst of your

Decaying situation

Somehow you cope

Somehow you hope

For that long expected day

Despite the desperate

Need to leave

You are fine

Waiting for your time

To leave the grim

And shine.

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