Winter Mourn

While cold death lurks on the outside window,
Chilled to the bricks by the winters snow,
Nothing but a white dessert prevails to the eye,
Except a red rose waving goodbye,

Blowing back and forth against the howling hail,
Her roots, slowly beginning to fail,
Each petal ripped; thrown then lost,
Her leaves are no longer; they've formed into frost,

Her surface is now but an icy cloak,
A gift from her garden, that now has choked,
So pleading they were, for water at first,
Until winter mourn showed her curse,

In her garden bed; a pool of blackened blood,
Seeping into the sheets beneath, ready to flood,
Gasping for air, pricked by her own thorns,
She drowns in her flower bed, in the winter mourn.

Wrote on January 4th, 2007
© Samantha Jayne Reed