The bloom has gone from my fragrant rose.
Will it return, no one knows.
The thorns are still there, in my side.
The bleeding continues yet the words now hide.
~
The trellis climbed, my energy’s spent.
Yet each day I wake in search of a scent.
The ground’s now closer, I taste the dirt.
My feelings strong but now they hurt.
~
Perhaps a tree I’ll now befriend.
Trees live long, I’ll miss their end.
My pen will rest as I branch out.
I’ll climb again but poetry’s in doubt.

~*~
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