A gold rose is shiny and cold

Frozen in beauty, stunned in her growth

Stiff in her posture, unable to slouch

Torn from her roots, her home in the ground

Displayed in a window, she watches them stare

She dreams to be free, breathing the fresh air

They gaze in awe at the beauty she wears

If they saw her true face would they still care?

Stuck in her box, she’ll never go stale

Prized by the man who got her on sale

She wishes for power, to shed this heavy coat

To return to the ground that she calls her home

Thank you for reading – M