The rose lies solemnly on the glistening grass
Like a lover waiting for her other half in the
Drizzling rain. It revels in the unspoken
Beauty of its silky petals, each holding a million stories.
The edges of the petals curl outward, as if beckoning
Passersby to listen to their transient tale.
Or perhaps, the edges resemble sly smiles
Sharing a secret. Dewy bulbs cling to the everlasting pink,
Not wanting to surrender their majesty.
A remnant of a once spiraling, glorious queen
Thrown off the throne. She is spoiled
By the lingering sunshine, but rain stems
From wistfulness and loneliness.