Member-only story
The Last Rose
2 min readMar 20, 2021
The bud was tight, firm, yet reaching —
For the sunlight, warmth, possibilities.
The leaves, bright and green,
Thorns sharp and daring.
The rose felt your touch.
As you coaxed it to grow;
Watering, feeding –
Showering it with love.
The rose responded
To the care you provided.
It knew its sharp thorns would
Protect it from harm.
As fear and doubt fell away
The petals slowly loosened –
Relaxed. At ease. Safe.
The sun would rise and fall.
Each day began with a
Yearning, a soft hope
That you would come soon.
The sound of your voice
As you spoke the words that
Would become songs and melodies –
The rose felt a fondness to your devotion.
As your breath fell upon the petals
The rose craved the touch
Of your lips with such intensity
