I
took a bright red
rose
from my garden today.
To place inside my
darkened room,
in hopes to chase
my tears away.
I chose with care
the reddest one,
for its sweetness
filled the air.
It would bring me
happiness
for the moment, that
it lingered there.
I trimmed its thorns
with loving hands,
then placed it to
my cheek.
I kissed its velvet
petals, soft dew upon
my lips.
It was regal in its
beauty, majestic at
its peak.
I placed it in a vase
so clear,
on the table by my
chair.
I whispered sadly
to myself, "what
have I done?"
and turned and left
it there.
This taste upon my
lips I knew so well,
was not of dew, but
tears that it had
shed.
Could it be it loved
another,
still out there in
my flower bed?
An
Angel Original.
©
Copyright 2003 Paula
Scola
All Rights Reserved