Just One Red Rose

In my hands lies a rose

Dying but still bloody red

I never understood the likes of it

Now here it spins in my hands

with my eye scrutinizing its every petal

It smells good – ‘I like it’


I preferred the fake once

Looking identical and never perishing

Why waste greens on waste?

Made no prior sense

However, now here it spins in my hand

A single red rose

It’s beautiful, worth the fuss…I guess

But only a single rose.

By Daniella Djio

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