In a corner of the room
under the moon's silent glances
there is delicate rose wilting..
waiting for someone to look after it

It looks outside..
lifting it's delicate arms with the help of the gentle breeze
locked inside, overlooking the isolated world,
longing for a companion

As she stands there
on the window sill
gentle drizzle commenced
dampening it's gorgeous old silk.

She starts to find solace
as she embraces her end with a smile
her gentle wings touch the ground
her last breath against the gentle pitter patter.
© Nyra