A Winter’s End (she appreciates me)




Her gentleness trembles beneath my finger

As she responds with a rigid resistance to

My caressing touch.

Though she is dying, she

Is yet still elegant. Although

Void of understanding, she silently listens to me.

As I clip off what was her last good leaf, her once

Blossoming bud gracefully falls to the floor

In a final attempt to die.

She was just a simple rose, but she was good to me.


Until her downfall before hence when she had


That she had truly felt for me unconditionally.

Her smell being a strong reminder of a love gone-


Tamuriel L. Dillard

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