Winter
I reach forth underneath and past the stars, trumpets blazing, with just enough strength to sprout beneath the dirt
I am a rose curving upward
A confused flower that lets loose a single leaf
Pointed toward the sun, open and free of care
So sure that the sludge meant summer
Where a cherry’s laugh and the sweet wall of the sloping hillside
Signaled the tenderness and fire of the sky’s love wrapped ‘round my vulnerable center
But the air, stained with black ink and arial font
Seeps into all of my crevices, sucked in through a spot in my roots
It isolates the cracks in my window and wishes me dead as it encircles my mouth
I am weak and ashamed that my exhausted cries pierce only deaf and hidden caves
My petals will ache forever with the hurt
and the love
They try to persevere through the shiver and slouch from the work
To not let the pride of the wind press me, cut me, leave me too limp from fear
They’ve already been bent by the weight of the snow, squeezed of its hope
Now it’s only a matter of time before history repeats itself
And Winter will wonder and question why another rose’s smile
Was beaten by a door and won with a cross
No longer visible as she thinks to herself to take cover and wait until he subsides