The Story of a Rose

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


A young bud opened to see the brilliant blue sky,

Her leaves were green and colour was bright.

The warm rays of sunshine were like a hug,

Cared for and tended to, all she knew was love.

 

As she grew, so did her beauty,

Not a normal flower, she was far from moody.

Kind and innocent, naive to a fault,

Unknown to her, her perfect life would come to a halt.

 

The most lovely flower in the garden,

To others’ jealousy she was often a target.

But at the same time she was much desired,

Her confidence lowered by the jealous, highered. 

 

A yellow dandelion caught her eye,

He in turn saw her passing by.

In unison their quick-beating hearts,

But little did they know, love is hard.

 

He was too possessive, thought she was his,

She was too blind, couldn’t see things were amiss.

He shut her in a cage and locked the gate,

Took everything from her until she was drained.

 

Dried and weak, she saw he was the villain,

Finally she managed to escape from her prison.

But the memories of him still left her with scars,

In her mind, still trapped behind bars.

 

She deprived herself of sugar and water,

She was a lamb, leading herself to the slaughter.

Once envied by all, from when they were seeds,

Now pitied for her fragility, falling in love with a weed.

A beautiful purple aconite came to her aid,

From the start he had watched her, but was afraid.

He gave her food and water, he gave her love,

And soon she too felt the above.

 

Sweet words exchanged, love abloom,

But she could not realize that they were doomed.

Subtle warning signs and a pocketful of lies,

When the time came she finally opened her eyes.

 

The dandelion as a weed took things away,

The aconite gave her sweet poison to take its place.

Shocked by the realization, saddened from betrayal,

She wept and she cried until she was unable.

 

Lonely as a lark flying in the sky by itself,

She was alone in her garden, she had no one but herself.

Though nothing but a child, so young of age,

Her weary soul had seen too much, now deranged.

 

Wilted, withered, missing petals,

For her beauty she would win no medals.

Once a beautiful, lively rose,

Now faded and dying, petals eternally closed.


Submitted: February 03, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Luna Cai. All rights reserved.

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Comments

Alizzia Ward

That was touching! I feel sad for the young rose now..

Wed, February 3rd, 2021 2:50am

Author
Reply

Thank you! And yes, what happens to the rose is sad indeed.

Tue, February 2nd, 2021 7:30pm

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