a lone unique rose standing
never really fully blooming
but still holding such beauty
many storms came and went
through the fierce times,
strongly stood the rose
never fully breaking.
but, building defenses
growing, thorns so sharp
pricking the ones too close.
long days always passing
watching, sharpening his blade
so cunning, the handsome wolf
always so patiently waiting,
wanting the rose only to himself,
eager and ready to cut her down
seeing the rose tired of loneliness
the wolf makes plotted advances
using his clever wit and charm
coming around always flattering
softening the rose’s sharp thorns
the rose became so accepting
ready to be loved and kept safe
unsuspecting, was that slice
on that dark and unforgiving day
now laying on the ground
completely broken and dying
the rose finally fully blooms
and from the soft red petals
crimson tears falling
spilling blood for this first love.
laughing the wolf just walks away.
The Rose
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