Jade P.

The Rose

The glowing rose gives of a heat so comforting and pleasant in this season of frost and joylessness.

The rose grows from the tiniest spark in the sand to an explosion of crimson reaching for the trees.

As day crawls deeper and deeper into the well of night,

The petals crinkle and dive into the silt below them,

Leaving nothing but the spark, the sprout of the rose.

Soon, the sprout creeps under the dirt.

We have nothing but dead petals to remind us of the rose that once was, but will soon grow again.