a broken rose
picked probably
yesterday
A deep rich color
of blood red, burgundy
lying there,
out of place
Bending down,
cupping the petals
the crushed bloom
still beautiful
Limp petals
bending, folding
in the breath of the wind
like a shear silk
a softness of the skin
Putting the rose gently
in a glass of water
floating now, effortlessly
as if with no weight at all
June 8, 2010
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,400+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
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