A rose is a fighter
She opens every day
And closes every night
Even through the depths of winter
She dares to emerge yet again
Despite the foul winds
That beat and punish her petals
And the harsh sun
That crisps her folds
And the distasteful weather
That renders her flower
That drowns and thirsts her
She keeps going
Even after being cut and torn
A rose is a fighter
That's doesn't fight back
But resists
Why can't the world be more like her
YOU ARE READING
Dear Rose
PoetryIf I could speak to a rose, there would be a few things I would say. For I picture some of the people in my life as roses, and roses as some of those people. This is what I wish I could say.
