This rose has been too long in the sun
Her edges are getting dry
Gone are her petals’ velvety shine
in its stead are the unsightly lines
that no doubt say she’s past her prime.
Her thorns get sharper as they wither
Her fragrance betrays the odor of decay
Will she remain the treasured flower
the one you kiss and pin on your lapel?
Will she be tossed in the compost heap
forgotten but by the buzzing flies
Or will you press her between the pages
of your favorite book
her grandeur, a sweet souvenir to keep.
~~~
DVerse Poets wants us to write about our fears. One of mine is hiding between the lines.
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Beautiful 🙂
Thanks, Arlene. 😊
Thanks, Arlene. 🙂
Hopefully a sweet souvenir to keep. We all share that fear of being forgotten and toss aside in the compost heap.
That’s an amazing photo Imelda. Thanks for joining us.
Thank you, Grace. It is always my pleasure to participate in the prompts. 😊
We are all pressed in someone’s book. Sometimes it’s not the book we’re reading. Your words skillfully express a common fear, being alone
Yes, being alone and unloved was what the poem was about. Thank you for reading and for the kindness of a comment. 🙂
I enjoyed reading between the lines and felt the fear of being left behind, alone, forgotten. The rose worked beautifully in representing those thoughts. Is this your photo as well? It is stunning.
You nailed it, Mish! Thank you for reading and the feedback.
Yes, I did take the picture, too. 🙂
the photo and your words make such a touching and raw ensemble. this tugs the heartstrings. ❤
Thank you, Rose. 🙂
you’re welcome, Imelda!
lovely
Beautiful piece! ❤
Such an exquisite poem ❤️
Thank you, Sanaa. 🙂
Very nice 🙂
Hopefully pressed in the pages of a book. Wonderful poem and image, Imelda.
Thanks, Jane. 🙂
Wonderful poem and image, Imelda. Such profound thoughts.
Thanks, Sylvia. 🙂
I’ve saved many a dried flower, not quite ready to let go of the memories. Beautiful, Imelda.
Awwh! I’d like to keep her 🙂