Rose Prison

Locked away in a garden of thorns,

A rose prison, where beauty mourns.

Petals stand as bars, delicate yet strong,

Their fragrance trapped, their song so cold.

***

Each bloom, a captive in this floral cell,

No escape from this fragrant spell.

Their vibrant hues dull, their spirits fade,

Within this prison, where they’re betrayed.

***

Once free to dance with the gentle breeze,

Now confined to a life with no bees.

Their splendor, once admired by all,

Now hidden behind these prickly walls.

***

But in this prison, hope still survives,

A longing for freedom that forever strives.

For deep within each petal’s core,

A fire burns, a yearning so pure.

***

They dream of a meadow, vast and wide,

Where they can sway with nature’s stride.

A place where their fragrance can roam free,

Their beauty admired by all who see.

***

So they tremble and wait for their chance,

To break free from this confining trance.

Patiently biding their time, they grow,

Preparing to leave, to bloom and show.

***

And when the moment finally arrives,

They unleash their beauty, their essence thrives.

No longer confined, their captivity ceased,

They fill the world with a ravishing feast.

***

Released from their prison, they soar,

Their fragrance so potent, forevermore.

No longer confined to those thorny walls,

They dance in sunlight as freedom calls.

***

Remember the rose’s plight,

The beauty kept hidden, out of sight.

Cherish each bloom you behold,

For within them, stories of freedom unfold.

© 2023 Amy Christie

Originally published on Medium