Willow Creek

A single rose that's held its head high,
Begins to wilt as the years pass it by,
Scolded my wind, and the bitter rain,
A wild angel lives, no one can tame,

Her thorns slowly decompose,
Her scars are left open and exposed,
Simple pleasures become daily chores,
As she diminishes upon a distant shore,

Each leaf has been wrenched from her fragile torso,
Craving for her actions made a long time ago,
To feel her blood sweat once more,
And trickle down her fingers, as many times before,

The edges that sliced deep within her sole,
No longer exist in her household,
She made a decision to grow again,
In the back alleys of willow creek lane,

Crystal eyes now sparkle with a happiness long lost,
Pearl tears no longer make winter mourns frost,
Yellow as the sun beneath and umbrella,
Bright as the flower she has become.

Wrote on January 30th, 2007
© Samantha Jayne Reed