The Rose and The Gardener
There Stands The Rose
There stands The Rose
Wilted and forlorn
Petals dried and torn
Tarnished.
Flawed.
But not Beyond repair.
With patient careful care,
the dutiful Gardener
Tirelessly tends
The thorns that protect
Scream their behest
With a prick and poke
A shared color toke.
Still he toils
Preening and prying
The naked, and dying.
Removing the Broken
The Tattered,
The pieces, scattered.
He sings as he waters
"Leave me," cries The Rose
"I'll never be beautiful,
I'll never be whole!"
The Gardener smiles
"You were always beautiful,
But none cared,
To care for your soul."
The Rose falters,
The Gardener removes
The cobweb gloom
And straightens her wilt,
"But I will."
"Now, Bloom."
About the Creator
Teddy E Powers
A man of many voices, wrought by the choices I have made. An actor, a writer, singer, a believer in many things, a photographer, and most of all a being filled with an immense curiosity that grows ever moreso each day.
Keep reading
More stories from writers in Poets and other communities.
The Business of Nature
Dew drops reflected the light of the sun. The inhabitants of Whispering Woods woke up to the golden droplets of water on the leaves of the flora. The oaks particularly enjoyed the light and the maples did, too. Happiness enveloped all who lived there, even the rocks that cried out in the night delighted in the morning.
By Skyler Saundersabout 21 hours ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.