Always A Rose

I wrote this after visiting a nursing home. Alone in a corner sat an elderly woman in a wheelchair. Although she was elderly, her beauty still struck me amazing.

Always A Rose

 

She is a withered rose,
lying forgotten amidst younger blooms
Once the favored jewel in a tapestry of colors
Her perfume no longer dances on the summer wind

 

It seems like only yesterday
She bathed in the warmth of life
Now her crystal blue skies hide in slumber
Behind bitter cold blankets of gray

 

Her tears trickle like rain off her cheek
As she realizes soon her sun will set
With pride she displays her last bloom
Her stunning beauty proves she will always be a rose

 

Brian K. Walters

Reviews

[2Real2BTrue]

Lovely. So well written, with good metaphors and imagery, and, above all, meaning. I love meaning in poetry. Great job.