See a flower, pelted by rain, scarred by hail. See
A bloom whipped by slicing winds, scalded by unquenched mid-day sun.
Yet it yawns wide, breathes and stretches, unfurls. Delicate, indestructible arms
Then time and age, waste and days, then longer days and rain no longer
Revives. The scoff of storms yields no more growth. A season dies and she sleeps.
Peace beneath muddy crust till a new season of trial and storm,
Growth again, of new glory,
new color, deeper roots.
A winter white rose
As if she dares the pending snow
to steal her royal garb.
Ringed with velvet petals
Her heart is crazy bold.
As if she holds off passing time
She chafes against the cold.
Frailer blooms have bowed their heads.
To dark and murderous winter’s doom.
The season’s taken many things
It’s chill-expected toll.
Her fragrance wanes.
Her spine now curves in weakened pain.
With dignity she wakes each morn
Single tear-petals drip past thorns
On their journey to the ground.
One winter white rose
Know’s not her season to expire.
Wakes each morn with lovely valor.
You left me years ago.
My heart tried to tell me so.
Cruelly you lied and told me no.
I wondered why we failed to grow.
Like a withered flower still in the ground,
An ancient stump, its circles round.
Counting the years it tried to survive,
Counting the years it looked alive.
But yielded no fruit,
Nothing to show.
I know now why we failed to grow.
Because you left me years ago.
My heart, it tried to tell me so.
But you just lied and told me no.
Now, I’m wondering where to go.
Brazen blue on a blustery day.
Banish the sun, so the raindrops play.
Dash the dreary daisy,
In the late months of the year.
Wash the weepy window with a long and weary tear.
Tantalizing tint, of soft and sweet azure,
Blue the blooming baby’s breath,
In a raindrop world washed pure.