#878733 added April 7, 2016 at 12:47pm Restrictions: None
The Wilting Rose
The Wilting Rose
We grew in fertile soil, my sisters and I.
Stretching to the sun and soaking up the water.
And while we belonged together,
I was not the same color.
My difference made me a beauty
a contrast and compliment to the garden.
I breathed in life with joy.
And Oh, how tall and beautiful I was.
I was content.
But for only a season.
I am a wilting flower in a garden of summer roses.
As the season changes, I see my sisters.
How tall they have grown.
I am in retreat while they thrive.
I was so proud to be the first bloom,
the most beautiful in the garden.
But my petals have faded.
Although I am in the bouquet,
and my color part of the rainbow,
I am the contrast.
The least of them.
In their presence,
I am the once eclipsed,
dwarfed, and hidden in shadows.
I am proud to be part of the bouquet.
But no longer deserve to be counted.
I am a wilting flower,
plucked to early,
and left to die.
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