Like a vine on the wall
I lingered far too long.

Aw a simple rose.

Can you smell the perfume?
It’s from slow decay
as the roses wither away.

Bloom, grow, wither
the life of a flower
so simple, so lovely.

A poet knows them well,
They inspired many with
their perfumed memories,
they linger on through poety.

The rose always in thought,
always quiet but never
silent, for you are reminded
by their perfume.

The roses inspired my
spark, it lit my wick
as I burn my reserve.
I have a long lasting
desire to write poetry.

The roses, I ponder
in rows of formatted
prose they love to grow
on my poetic tongue.
I cultivate them with
my desire to plant
my poetic seeds.

© 2018 By Amanda Shelton