A single white rose
In a field of crumbling bones.
The letters she once wrote
Carved into the chipped stone
They're now too broken to decipher.
Broken.
The heaviness I hold.
I'm broken.
The shrivelled vermilion organ
I carry in cupped hands
Seeping life from the deep cuts
That tore it apart.
It wants to sprout feathers
And glide through the silken air.
It wants to be free.
But freedom is for the adventurous
And I am too broken.
Nothing but sadness remains.
I speak.
Pouring life into the White Rose
In the hope she will grow wings for me
Can soar amongst ravens and swallows above.
Because my broken cannot hold life safely.
It slips through the gaps like rainwater on a cloudy day
But White Rose is strong.
In this broken world
She is the one thing that can recognise life.
She lives on
Despite the pain surrounding us
This rose is pure
And I can only hope
This broken world
Will not consume my flower.
~
Theme: grief
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Ashes (poetry)
PoetryA compilation of poems I wrote. Each poem will be followed by a word or short phrase (the theme) which is my interpretation, but you can interpret it any way you like. All poems belong to me unless otherwise stated Hope you enjoy! ~Lois
