A Single Rose Poem by Chris Townsend

A single rose, a thorn in a field of soft grass, sets for me a lonely scene,
This pointless gesture of romance, a solitary flower in a seabed deep set in green,
I cry a river of thoughts, a torrent of violent water, set to fall,
As I look deep in to this mire, from the cliff of deep regress I call,
I shout my feelings I let the words stream into the blue,
My target the gun sights, a photograph, set to my side of you,
As I take this moment, an explanation of what lies within,
As I open my mind, this book, this covering deep red sin,
This flow, a deftly silence, a door to my mind,
All these quiet figures, there silence I find,
As I watch, nothing comes to my eyes,
As I feel forward, I am full of my human lies,
Touching the air I see a blue horizon lift before me,
I can move towards it, does this mean I am truly free,
Is this capture, is this image really what I see,
Or is it a picture in a book, the image generated deep within me,
The warmth and tenderness, the tears I shed through this time,
Another quiet moment, a reflective mirror within this rhyme,
My deep breath shallows as I feel my eyes contract,
I wonder about my existence, I consider what I lack,
This riot ended, the damage done,
All these images, bullets already fired, from a smoking gun,
I sit amongst the waving grass as the wind cuddles my brow,
I am taken away from this place, the end is now…