Categories
Poetry

The Rose

The rose began to wither, in
her heart of woven gold,
the ocean melted in her eyes
for stories never told.

The window shone the morning bright,
not once did she look there,
the darkness had become her and
the rose, at last, was bare.

The bluebirds flew about the day,
the air cut like a knife,
and all the while a single rose
lay weeping bloody life.

For no one knew the rose had died
and left a heart of black,
except the girl with ocean eyes;
a train run off the track.

The gardens coloured in the world
so full of joyous spring,
and daisies spread along the path
as death came wandering.

The children danced in rosie rings
while men laughed at the sky,
yet, there she lay upon the bed,
a light about to die.

And as the days became the years
her rose grew back once more,
a rose of black and white, this time;
a life unlike before.

-Brooke Cutler, 2018

nature love romantic summer
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

By brookecutler2

Liver of life, lover of everything. 💕

2 replies on “The Rose”

Aww, Kat ❤️ That means an awful lot coming from such a beautiful, heart felt writer such as you. Thank you for saying those lovely things. I do wonder if I have anything to do with the words that come out of me, half the time. Often I seem to disappear, and when I come back…something’s been written. Quite strange how all the magic of creativity works. ☺️xx

Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s