The Rose: Poetry Series

The Rose

Each Petal slowly tumbles

until the last one remains

alone and cold, with no others

to add to it’s beauty.

The ground swallows the petals

and slowly demolishes the wonder

that was created over time.


Lovely white petals shrink

and shrivel

just as dreams being shattered

eroding away.

Before they began to wither

they were beautiful, each softly

colored petal painted with dew

when dawn awoke.

The aroma was so fresh, so sweet

that even the hummingbirds wanted a taste.

But that is all over now, the thorny bush is all that 

remains, 

the butterflies and birds come no more,

the last petal has fallen. 

Dalea FaulknerComment