White rose

I—The Rising


I see it rising up against

the black, rising up as a

simple image in a landscape

of none, rising gently for all

who see  the black and find

despair, rising and holding

its place as the white rose

of kindness and fragile hope.


II—The Giving


Let me give you a 

white rose, and say 

no words, offer no 

wisdom for the ages, 

just kiss your cheek 

and with you holding 

the bloom close to heart,  

I will smile with regret

and move away again.


III—The Dying


The rose it droops,

the rose it dies,

the white rose it falls into

the black; without a sound,

without a tear, without a

promise of any more.

Who shall rise and plant

the seed, who shall be the one

to start its place, and see the rose 

rise up against the black again?