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"And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt." Sylvia Plath

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Wilted Rose


Like a dying rose
I’ve wilted too long
My petals have fallen
To the earth, I just can’t
Go on.

The blue skies bypass me
I’m drowning in rain,
Though my thorns still
Sharp enough to cause
You pain.

My roots still connected
But I’m covered with
Weeds. Ugly and alone,
In a place too dark for the
Sun to see.

© 2008 Jennifer L. Brooks

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