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A Rose
The water shimmered
Blue and gold
The breeze and the mist
one shallow rose
It sat by the water
It’s leaves dipped in
Awaiting the time
it would bloom again
Time went on
the sun set beneath the hills
one could hear the sighs
and the waiting in will
The rose then shriveled
Beneath a pile of dirt
covered and tortured
stressed and hurt
The rose it swore
to see the light of day
when would it breathe?
only time would say
But time didn’t say
and that broke the deal
between the moon and the sun
and the little rose’s will
The rose it cried
cried in the storm
as the terror whipped
and smiled in scorn
As the wind died down
Not a soul in sight
one couldn't hear
the little rose's plight
This life, I tell you
of the rose, I say
it never even saw
the light of day.
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This article has 1 comment.
This piece is about the awaiting of love, and when it doesn't arrive, you think about the things you could have done differently to make it come, but by that time, it would be too late. It portrays the stress and the drama that comes with the awful suspense.