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Rose of Sharon

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An elegant figure sits upon her throne.Her luchus green servants make her food. Her white dress bobs in the wind the simple purple sweater covers her. On top of her head a stunning crown blends. Her messenger whispers the secrets it has overheard in his journey. She must not have any enimies, for she was the last rose. The biggest threat was still to come. IT was sly and quiet. Slowly taking out everyone. Then it called to the skies and sent down
snow.



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Thesilentraven This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Oct. 3, 2010 at 7:41 pm:
What a beautiful poem this is! You brought that 'Rose of Sharon' to a lifestyle that we as humans can understand, and you did it well. I very much enjoyed reading this, so very well done!
 
Gadzooks replied...
Sept. 10, 2013 at 2:08 pm :
I'm sorry it took me this long to get back to you but thank you.
 
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