Story of Rose

Sitting patiently, waiting to be picked
Watching everyone around it surface
"This one is prettier" some say
"This one is the right color" some explained
So the rose just sits.... sits.... sits and wait
For her day that she will soon be picked

Untouched, pedals in place, stem as strong as a rhino horn
This rose battles through all types of weather
Lasting through 8 seasons it stands strong
All the other ones that weren't picked slowly died off
2 years and counting she sits and waits
Soon someone comes she thinks she found her mate

He looks perfect, smiled with ease
Voice so soothing the rose could feel his heart beat
Finally she gets picked
Held tightly in his arms, his grasp like no other
She reached her new home and her pedals open wide
Soon to find out, it was greener on the outside

Waiting so many years and yet satisfied with the pick
This house isn't so lovely because the woman is sick
Sitting on her death bed the rose stood by her side
It could be anyday now when our lady could die

The rose sat there and wondered "what about I? what would happen if this lady should die?"
.So she pondered by herself week after week
Soon the machines that stood tall next to her made a weird beep
the rose stood tall worried as people rushed in
Guys with metal hands yelled "clear" and ladies with sharp syringes came near

Soon her man, her knight and shinning armor stood in the doorway
His eyes filled with water and his body began to shake
Realizing the person he bought the rose for is in a better place.
He sat on the bed rubbing the sheets
Looked at the rose and started to speak

As my pedals began to fall my steam began to weaken
now I was feeling weak in this cold winter season
he held me while he sat on the bed
said he loved her and can't believe shes dead
he slowly lifted up and rubbed his eyes
looking at me so weak and fragile
it was now my time to die.


A poem I thought of.. just because.... Hope you enjoyed :) back to random antics tomorrow