Elegy on a Rose

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

It is so lonely here. When I was cut, my life span ended.

They stuck me in a vase of water, now quite low and mucky.

I miss my siblings. I miss the outdoors. Why do people do this to us? Are we being punished for something? Our execution involves being left in isolation until someone comes in and fingers our petals. A human nose–disgusting!–sniffs us and says roses don’t smell as good as they used to.

You’d stink, too, if you were cut off from all your kindred and left alone to rot.


33 thoughts on “Elegy on a Rose

    1. Yes. I have peonies in my back yard, which almost always get shredded by heavy rain as soon as they open up. This year, though, it hasn’t rained on them yet and Terry brought several inside for me to enjoy. In this case, they’ll probably fare better in a vase than on the bush!

      Liked by 1 person

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