The Rose Petal Man
Rose Petals
If I had a rose petal for every woman I loved,
I’d have a bushel or two—
Fill the petals in a basket, making sure there’s enough
Before I blanket the ground with a few
With each steady pace,
A rose petal is placed
I’d never get lost in the forest
I’d find my way back
No matter how far I trekked,
Making it in time for porridge
I’m known all around as the Rose Petal Man,
Living alone far by the old river dam
When I’d enter the town,
A rose petal would be found
The villagers would scoff at this phantom
I’d deliver my goods
Then off to the woods,
Retreating alone to my cabin—
On one particular day toward the middle of May,
I came across a fair maiden named Summer
Lost in the woods
With a basket she stood
Distraught over a fight with her mother
Their battle was heated; they both exchanged words
She wished she could take it all back
I filled her basket with rose petals then ushered her off for this was the start of her new task
For each step she took, drop a rose petal or two
Until the basket was emptied completely
Puzzled she was for how could this solve
An argument that happened just recently
Despite her doubts,
She embarked on her task with a basket filled with rose petals
As the air chilled, and still no answers For the sun had begun to settle
There she stood
After a grueling walk in the woods
For how did this solve her conundrum
Her soul was still haunted
From that long walk in the sun,
She was famished and quite exhausted
I smiled and said, “Take the basket my friend there’s still much work so do not be daunted. Do you remember the rose petals? Do you remember which ones? Put them all back and then you’ll be done.”
Her expression perplexed clearly vexed from within,
But she left to her dismay
That long journey she walked
All alone in the dark
She searched aimlessly till the next day
Although disappointed for only a few rose petals she could retrieve
She feared there will be no answer to receive
But the hermit knew better and what she didn’t know
She already knew the answer, and it would offer her hope—
“Do you remember those words that you said to your mother? Each rose petal represents each word,” he said to Summer, “Try as you may to take back what was said, it would all be futile in the end.”
Tears flooded her eyes for she finally understood
It would be impossible retrieving each rose petal in the depths of those woods
“Take heed and try harder not to hurt those close to you—for each word used could be a powerful tool. If you choose correctly, you could even heal old wounds.”
Content with her answer, Summer turned back and said, “Is that the same reason why you throw rose petals, my friend?”
The hermit stopped smiling as his eyes began to well, “One day she will forgive and all that was said in the past—until then, I’m cursed each day to take those words back.”
About the Creator
Iosefa Manu
I write to let the demons out.
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