Withering Roses a poem by Jennifer Jo Fay

Withering Roses

Oh, I sat in the seat of my car

thinking of beautiful roses.

Pristine pink petals

sifted through my mind.

I loved feeling the silkiness

of their petal soft skin.

And I sat at the drivers seat

thinking of how I would write

this sweet scented poem.

Suddenly I was stopped

and watched the rolling train

go by.

My window was open

when it should have been shut.

Damn it all!

Suddenly, my thoughts

of those beautiful roses

simply rolled itself out of the door.

And I watched in agony

as my precious words or roses

floated underneath the tracks

and that awful train

carelessly crushed my

roses.  And my words were gone.

Withered roses

wilted and trampled.

Gone.

Damn.


Jennifer Jo Fay

Copyrighted January 30, 2012

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