My precious rose, has been lost in its thorns,
taken over by afflicted solitude.
When normally, in the light, continuing breeze;
there only was a soft touch, breath into red petals.
………………..
This wind, has a relenting voice, but
there is no flower that can hide from it.
This rose, in empathy; whispers its sadness through the rain.
Even during the day, without anything, there is….
………………..
Tragedy, vague without roots; deepening into the soil.
Does the flower feel that loss, as-well?
………………..
I can’t walk by, and not notice this, I won’t.
………………..
What is then most important;
the warmth of a single petal?
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