The Rose

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Slowly pulling petals,

From a sweet and fragrant rose;

Watching them fall from my fingertips,

Like winter's falling snow.

Knowing that each petal,

Protect's the rose's heart,

Still I pull them one by one,

Gently taking it apart.

Then when the petals are all gone,

The last one on the ground;

I see at last the tender heart,

Of the fragrant rose I found.

Just as slowly you are pulling every petal from my heart;

With every look and every touch,

Gently taking me apart.

You know with every petal,

You see right to my soul;

But yet you pull them one by one,

No longer am I whole.

Now that the petals are all gone,

With my defenses down;

You see at last the tender heart,

Of the fragrant rose you found.

This Poem was Graciously Donated by: Allison Chambers Coxsey

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