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Mbrand63

The Prose is Like a Rose

It begins as a small bud on the bush

Tightly enveloped in the green leaves of thought

The tips of what to come barely exposed

Attached to a bush of knowledge and experience it is slowly nourished

As the waters of thought course through the stem

With the sunrays of imagination basking it with life

The tight bud begins to unfold.

Slowly, slowly, ever so slowly it begins to mature

First a blossoming young flower

Opening itself for the world to see

The colors of words showing in its petals

The bright green leaves of ideas in its bud

It explodes into the flower it was meant to be

Its fragrance of emotions in the petals say to the world, look at me

Its wide open petals for the whole world to see

It speaks of beauty and charm of imagination gone wild

Its glory exposed to all that would look

But soon it loses its shimmer and shine

As the bush it is on can no longer sustain its magnificence

As the color fades and the petals drop and its heavy bud droops

Will anyone appreciate the flower it was once was.

It withers and dies on the bush of the mind

Having once been alive for all to appreciate the glory it brought

Yes the prose is like a rose as a new bud appears…….

#mysecondpiece

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