http://www.flickr.com/photos/52803386@N00/2406317425/
A sudden inspiration that sets me to write this poem
The Crimson Rose
She waits for her time to bloom
A never ending wait it seemed
But a wait she chose to carry out
The time has come, she blooms
Slowly but beautifully unfolding
Amist the others in the garden,
She slowly blossoms in the arena
Visitors all around here, intrigued
A sight she was and many adored her
But all were just passing her by
Frequently visiting her for company
One stood alone, a visitor of the past
A past that stole her heart instantly
She waits for him, glancing for a look
He buzz around with no advancement
She waits, meanwhile another arrives
Entertained was she but not intrigued
He advances, she rejects and waits
He moves away but still frequents her
The crimson rose still awaits
She knows she still has time
She has only started to blossom
But her heart has already blossomed
The crimson rose still awaits
She awaits for that visitor of past
Time has made her think of him
Now she awaits but for him?
I ponder...
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