A rose should not be awake to hear crickets
and the rustle of Midnight’s breeze
as rain drops dance on leaves and eaves
and the rustle of Midnight’s breeze
as rain drops dance on leaves and eaves
In the quiet moments you can hear a whisper
But then it’s gone
but not forgotten
A rose
she needs things
she’s really just a shrub
lucky enough to have beautiful moments
between dying and death
She needs room to breathe
yet such tender care
Leave her too long
and she will wither
making it harder for her to return
Tend to her
taking care when you cut her
because she will bleed
But if your touch is tender
– your fingers on her when she needs you most –
she will bloom beautiful
and she will be yours.
