The world is a hazy shade of gray
the sky, thick with clouds, threatens
the wind increasing as if a warning
offering to pour sadness upon the earth
and smother the world below in silence.
A single drop breaks free its captor
it does not want to bring this sadness
it has only love for the sleeping world below
a love for which it is willing to give its life
it feels only the glory of its coming union
with the parched ground toward which it falls.
The drop lands upon a delicate rose petal
it rolls over the blushing softness, enraptured
a fleeting moment happiness in the intimate caress
disappearing onto thorn covered stem, gone forever
remembered only by the dampened and lovely rose
who held the drop as softly as tear upon ones cheek.
A thousand drops are thrown harshly downward now
as though sent to scorn the one who gently came before
hurled with blind fury, they assault the others path
attacking, they smash and tear at the fragile lovely rose
it tries to stand with grace against the onslaught at first
but now it leans a broken shell of what beauty once had been.
The rain upon the rose continues now unceasing
the roses pain unjust as the rain falls without mercy
its fallen petals are blown away, forever lost in the storm
the barren stem stands now nearly empty and quite broken
in the cool mournful wind that follows this angry summer storm
it does but sadly sway, it is cold, silent, and very much…alone.
Karen Quinn 1990/2013