I sit in silence,
Watching my roses grow.
The green grass grows up
Around me,
A little, dim-lit cave
To hide me from prying eyes.
I watch as the first red-green leaves
Unfold uncertainly from winter's
Dead, hard packed ground.
They dry and open,
Like the wings of a butterfly.
My little plant grows,
Standing taller on a dainty stem
That strengthens with each passing day.
More leaves, and thorns start to appear,
Reminding me that Life is
Never so sweet as she seems.
Finally, a dusky bud forms in
The crook of one stem,
A promise of brightness and color.
It grows larger, greener,
Until the day it bursts forth
In all its glory, like a flag unfurling
In the summer wind.
I am all but hidden among my world
Of towering grass and dandelions.
I am queen of this kingdom,
My subjects the beetles and ants
And the butterflies that alight upon the dandelions.
And still, I watch my roses grow.
More blooms appear, crimson spots
Mixed within the foliage.
As summer wanes,
My flowers fade, withering on their stalks
Like limp corpses, stained with dying red.
My castle of emerald turns brittle and brown,
And all my royal vassals flee
The impending cold.
The roses drop, one by one,
To the leaf strewn ground,
Mere ghosts of their glorious life.
The leaves also fall, drifting like
Feathers to the dead grass.
Nothing is left but the thorny stems
That will give rise to next year's
But now, this skeleton and I
Will weather the cold to see if Life will continue
In the spring.