She was a blue rose,

Floating high on a sea of green
Yet concealed by a sea of red
Alone, rueful, surrounded by the barrier
Of her beauty.

So real, but seemingly impossible.
So lovely
But still a mistake.
And as the glorious summer sun
Was replaced by winter’s pale disk
The blue rose shone ever brighter
While the sea of red receded.

Alone, unloved, the blue rose waited
A solitary speck on the ice
While around her the snow melted
And once again there were stirrings of life.

Once again the sun glowed bright
And the sea of red returned
But this time the blue rose was too tired to fight
So she withered and died.