To Mend the Rose: A Poem
by Feye Morgan
Soft to touch, beauty
abounds
A look, a smile, a memory.
They break, shattered
instantly.
Who will mend the rose?
The mist creeps
closer.
It binds, it chokes, it smothers.
Where will I find rest
from the shadows of my past?
Who will mend the rose?
Smiles are
brilliant and false.
Danger is far and near.
You are the light in
the shadow.
You will mend the rose.
The illusion of light is in
you: shadow are you.
Broken am I, shattered reflection within.
But
there is light somewhere,
I know it. I will find it.
I will
mend the rose.