WILD ROSE (a poem)

17.12.2018

by M.F.

I want to be like a wild rose.

Rose, which beauty and fragility make you feel respect.

That much respect, that you wouldn't even think about picking her up,

And make her die for your pleasure, you wouldn't make her wrecked.


The feeling is so strong,

That you can't even touch her body,

Because you're afraid to break her innocence.

You're afraid, that your touch would make her shoddy.


So you're looking and looking at her with tenderness,

With your outstretched hands that you won't use.

She is so fragile but still strong too.

She fought for her place and now accepts sun and rain with truce.


You acknowledge her strength when you look at her thorns,

which she's wearing proudly on her body, showing her stability.

You're confused, because you don't know what impress you more.

the beauty in strength or beauty in fragility.


I want you to look at me like you're looking at the rose.

Apprehensively touching me for my strength and for my fragility.

I want you to look at me with respect in your eyes,

Without the intention of plucking me, if it's in your ability.