Everyday she rose from grace
No peculiar ties withheld her from her strength
No disappearing smile when others turn away
For it stays gleaming when she thinks of the moment that stays dancing
Her power to subdue the thoughts that prance about trying to pull her away
For she is the bittersweet taste of wine on a Sunday evening
In my humble opinion she’s the rose that withheld her grace
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Author:
Kana (
Offline) - Published: January 30th, 2022 21:47
- Category: Short story
- Views: 9
- Users favorite of this poem: A Boy With Roses, L. B. Mek.
Offline)
Comments1
may *She* forever, rise-up
from her obstacles in life
as-if gracefully, taking
her next step
of personal growth, and
ascension of progress..
(just another great write!
to the right eyes
these words you weaved
can offer so much solace..
thank you! for choosing to share, dear Poet)
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