Too Soon the Rose

Remember when you crushed the rose

between your fingers until the petals stained your hands

soft and red, delicious the scent

that filled the air between us. Bruised

petals drifted, spent

confetti of the celebration of us.

 

Wilted, rain-washed to dirty white,

too soon the rose

was trampled under the heavy tread

of everyday, and we never saw  the forgotten bits

wash down into the drains.

About grannysu

storyteller, writer, poet, gardener, countrywoman
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2 Responses to Too Soon the Rose

  1. Libby says:

    Beautiful and moving poem.

  2. grannysu says:

    Thank you, Libby. This was a prompt for myself from magnetic poetry–I closed my eyes and picked 5 words to use in a poem. Sometimes it helps to get a little boost.

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