The Silent Scream Of A Dying Rose
Life short yet romantically full
The Silent Scream Of A Dying Rose
He plucked the petals one by one,
His fingers slow, his grip secure.
The crimson folds, once kissed by sun,
Now trembled, fragile, pale, unsure.
I heard the flower’s silent cry,
The rose refused to say goodbye.
A whisper lost where love has been
A wound too soft, too small to be seen.
Each petal fell, a quiet death,
A stolen blush, a fading trace.
The stem stood bare, yet held its breath,
Still reaching for a vanished grace.
Then when his hand had done its will,
The rose lay torn, its beauty still.
Yet something in the air stayed,
A ghost of all the love that it had made.
About the Creator
♿ V+ Marie381Uk
Poetry has lived in me since childhood.
Ink spills the feelings words fear to say.
My poems heal, some haunt, all are pieces of me.
Stay and read please. Like&follow me. If my poetry touches your ♥️ maybe leave a small tip
#Marie381UkWrites
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.