, , , , , , , , , ,

Surrounded by the mighty firs
Cloaked in gossamer mists

A flower stands, the reddest rose
Waiting for his love, her kiss

She sits and watches quietly
Captivated by its desire to live

Among the barren land, where she
Is more than willing to forgive

This rose, perhaps her long lost love
Though she continues to just admire

Unsure if she should even touch
As her heart fills with desire

She reaches for the stem, so green
Unaware of the sharpest thorn

As blood trickles from her fingertip
She remembers why, with scorn


©2018 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo via Pixabay CC0