rosebud grows thorns
are a rosebud.
your unopened petals
drip with morning dew.
i will cherish the day your petals unfurl
and taste the dew on their scarlet skin.
i watch your leaves grow stronger.
and with your age and wisdom,
you grow thorns.
thick, angry thorns,
lashing out at the world.
as you get older you start to see
the world isn't what it was meant to be.
and so every time someone tries to
you cut them, slice them away.
because once you're
there's no escaping the pain.
you just want to stay a rosebud forever.
Lila stared disbelievingly. ‘And was this the only time you found to be born?’ she asked as she bent with difficulty to touch the bud.
Oh, but the beauty of the unborn life, Lila thought as she caressed the pale yellow petals, silky soft, tightly furled into themselves. The warm, vibrant, deep yellow heart just visible if Lila peered closely inside.
“Look, Stan, two years of trying and it chooses now to flower!”
Stan laughed and patted Lila’s stomach. “Well, our efforts spanned many more years.”
Lila nodded, tearfully. “You know what we’ll call the baby?”
We Grow and We Die
Can rosebuds wilt?
Can they die?
Can something wilt and die before it's truly born?
Because now I wonder
Am I already fully-formed?
Have I already grown into my petals?
I must have small petals
Tiny tiny petals
That are already turning black
Like knobby fingers of a witch.