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A pale rose

Through the shadowed forest I walked.
The path led straight.
A clearing revealed.
In it sat a weeded grove.
At its center a single bloom,
a red rose,
struggling towards the needed light.
I reached down to grasp its pale beauty.
A silence froze.
I pulled it forth,
thorns biting fleshy hand.
The redness ran across withered leafs.
Like tears of blood.
The rose fell on the weeded ground.
The shadows laughed.
The redness ran down pale cheek.
My tears of blood.
Through the shadowed wood I ran.

                                                                                       Author: Jon-Robert Barger

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