In my hand I held her
a fragrance that grows faint
she dipped into the sunshine
we insulted her with paint
*
In my hand I held her
not wanting to let her go
breezy calm like spring time
I wish they’d let her grow
*
In my hand I held her
though she damaged by the storm
the reds of hate assailed her
hopes and dreams were dashed and torn
*
In my hand I held her
she seems so out of reach
man bent on world dominion
her name – they call her Peace
Kim’s prompt for Poet’s United / Verse First is Close to the Source. When I saw the little blossom on my rose bush (this am), I felt the need to write this for her. The bugs and deer rarely leave a bloom. The symbolism is strong for this little rose.
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