The Rose
stands there.
Chubby, young.
Not entirely
fully grown.
But oh –
oh, so beautiful.
And smiling.
Smiling towards the sun.
The Gold Digger
(Yes, HE’s NOT King Midas!)
stands in its shadow.
Awaiting
The Right Moment.
Soon enough
he’ll pick her.
With stalk.
Flower. Everything!
And greedily enjoy
every tiny bit of her.
And she’ll
enjoy it too;
Happy, happy days! !
Funny thing,
you can’t be
angry with him;
You would’ve
done the same
thing, wouldn’t you?
If YOU were
Her twin soul.
And not
sentenced to
Eternal Heartache;
The first
19 years
tortured
on Earth.
Burned
by the sun.
Drowned
by the water.
Dead
on arrival.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
quite sad... but your figuratives are easy to understand and it makes a reader comprehend the poem easier... nice work!