A Wilting Rose

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‘Haps

You’d smile.

Or, ‘haps frown.

Whatever, then.

But pray do see more.

See colours turned to earth.

Ever keen, giving birth.

Watch as I wilt, never bowing.

Ere you forget, I radiated once.

See, I now carry in me radiance.

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13 thoughts on “A Wilting Rose”

    1. I’d prefer an alive one, too. But, if this one in the picture hadn’t been plucked, it’d have been breathing, too, I think!
      Your garden is beautiful, Val. And sometimes I miss your posts about the nature around you. They were so ‘filling’.

  1. This is a perfect way to consider a wilting flower, Priya. And maybe someday we’ll learn to treat the elderly with a similar reverence. Your writing always makes me see, and think.

  2. I always love your photos of roses and was surprised when I first saw the pictures in this post because I don’t know anyone else who would be brave enough to do a post with “wilting roses” or write a poem about old age with such reverence and respect
    Ere you forget, I radiated once…

    also love your reply to Val
    “…if this one in the picture hadn’t been plucked, it’d have been breathing, too, …”

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