I raised a yellow rose
And named it after you
Sometimes I press the glass against my chest;
the glass that's now your home
It feels like you are there if only I hug tight enough
that simple, handpainted frame
Shushed by the doors of death but, I hear your voice inside me evermore
If meadow unfolded before my feet
to walk across the border
I would run until there was nothing to run from
I would run straight into you
I named a rose after you
I whispered "you are the best, most beautiful rose in the whole entire world"
"Grow big and strong, I know you can, I know that you will live"
And the flower listened.
Blooming and blooming again without a wither
I wish you could have blossomed
off words from my heart
But, rather
bodies age just like a rose
But only roses rise from the dead each summer
year after year
waking up from their slumber
YOU ARE READING
Ouidas' Rose
Poetrya collection of rambles, of shattered letters, of quiet musings and heart throbs that feel like drum drops someone grab my teddy bear so I no longer feel the darkness
