Petals of the Rose

(07 May 2014)

The rose petals filter through the stems, the leaves, dodge the thorns and rest in peace

On the floor of this damp domicile, the earth welcomes and consumes this gentle pile

They darken and become brittle, once red; now dry, broken, crumbled

A brisk wind comes to sweep away, nature's broom, blow the beauty from this room

Rustle the firm trestle, rattle from within, more petals fall and are whisked by the wind

Soon the bush becomes bare, naked bulbs exposed, the bees stop returning, death to the rose

Every red tear shed, every thorn glinting on a crimson stain, not all escape heartache's pain

The bush remains dotted with pierced hearts, until the crippling wind tears them apart

In time the bulbs too expire, the loveless bodies they've become, dull and without fire, they're done

A harsh crack shatters the soundless night, this lone bud plummets none to quiet

A silent scream joins the cacophony, heard above the wind's torrential thrashing

And crashes hard upon this dark, damp floor; alone, its petals are no more

The stripped bush and all its tangled thorns are heard chattering in the gale

Exposed, all petals of the rose gone, every bud exiled to the whipping wail

It appears to shiver, and the dew collects as tears, washing the stains and dripping to the earth

Glistening in the night, a pool of red too shines, renewed under the fullness of the moon