The Green Rose by Stewart StaffordThrough fractured eyes,I see the rose I once plucked,In another man's hands.And mistakes that cannot be unmade,Sins that must go unforgiven,A resigned reluctance to surrender all hope.Those fingers enwrapping,The slender stem,That only holds spiky thorns for me now.I watch and reminisce,So close and familiar,Yet so alien and barren.I turn and walk away,Leaving the green rose,In place on the grave of what once was.© Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.
-Stewart Stafford
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