A Solitary English Rose Poem by Shadow Girl

A solitary English rose
lost and neglected entangled by weeds
a speck of colour in the lost wasteland
fragrant, sensual,
sweet, forgiving,
innocent, fragile.
Oh so fragile
and then the wind picks up
and knocks its trusting petals
to the floor
one
by
one
then that rose,
once in all its glory,
becomes nothing more
than a humble,
lonely stick of
thorns.
Yet satisfied that forever more
it will own a piece
of the earth
from which it were born.
And then the stick
withers away
and that solitary English Rose
is forgotten
as just something that was
and is no more.

Shadow Girl
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