Wilted Rose

December 21, 2012
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It was something beautiful,
like a quickly budding rose.
We found it among the thorns,
struggling to reach the sunlight.
We gave the flower so much care
with soil and shade and gentleness.
We watered the flower, so happily,
almost too happily, too enthusiastic.
We were a whirlwind, destructive
despite all our best intentions.
I think that the flower drowned.
We just used too much water,
and the flower quickly faded.
We killed it.
We, together, now have no purpose.

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Jeane said...
Dec. 30, 2012 at 9:52 pm
It a very sad poem with a whole lot of life meaning
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