No Love Remains

17 0 0
                                    

A rose bloomed near the kitchen window,
Red and elegant,
Almost as if it had a life of it's own.
It was like love in a sacred form.

Its soft petals had the rain drops from yester-night,
Enhancing it's natural glow.
Almost too picturesque for a kitchen window.
It was like a beautiful painting that adorned the poorest home.

Later slowly the sun did fade,
And so did the rose, the petals losing its colors.
Almost in a transient state
It was like the hair of grandmother, faded to white yet so eloquent.

The petals now piled at the bottom of the stem.
No glass case to hold onto the last of its hope.
It was almost as if its soft sepals couldn't handle the weight of the elegant petals.
It was like Atlas who held the celestial sphere on his shoulders.

I knew it would have ended.
I didn't hope nor had I known.
It was an end expected and I knew since then,
That no love remained.

________________

It was a short story which later turned into poetry. I wasn't impressed with this one. It was just a jumble of words really. Let me know your interpretation.

My Thoughts in Verses Where stories live. Discover now