Well, I was going through some of my older posts on this blog today, and I realized just how much I have changed in the course of about 1 and a half years. It made me feel kind of bad about how happy and not-caring I used to be, as cliche as that sounds. So here is a poem in honor of how things change too fast...
November
The delicate sheen
Of thin coats of ice
A silvery petal on each
Of the roses
The pale light
From the November sun
Dances in reflections
Skating over the ice
Even the thorns
Glisten in the light
Misleadingly beckoning
To prick your finger
The roses must be cut
Severed from their source
To save them from
A withered fate
Save them from
Slowly turning black
And dying
Inch by inch
But it is hard to watch
As the ice melts away
And drips slowly down
The frail bouquet
And I almost think
I would prefer to see
A blackened, withered
Deadly rose
Than rip away
These few moments
Of precious time
In pale November light
rapunzel.in.black
