PETAL HEAD

I turned up and saw the rose we had planted.
Its stem twisted down in the stifling flower pot.
No petals bloomed. No colour, no fragrance, no fragility was left.
The cold harsh sun had withered them away.
All that was left was the stem. Some leaves.
The bare basics of its life.
The winter had stripped everything else away.

I wanted to kick it
Smash it
Destroy what was left

But then I remembered the gift it had been,
The love it was received in,
The nurture it had experienced to grow.

It may be twisted, bare, ugly now
But summer will return again
To give it back the life now lost.

                                              When will my summer return?

© Kasia Simms 2015