The Rose

The rose sits on the windowsill gazing way down below

Dreaming of all the places it longs to go.

The rose dreams of humans; how they speak and all their amusing things

Yet all the rose has to listen to is the birds and how they sing.

The rose dreams of being like these people and finding true love

Even though the rose is agnostic it beseeches help from up above;

‘If my love exists let it come and find me

All the while I will wait for it and long for the day I am free.’

Time passes and the rose sits on the windowsill still holding onto hope

Yet the hope is slowly fading and the rose is struggling to cope.

The rose is all alone locked in the tower bound by its own chains

Yet longs now not of love but to be free and among grassy plains.

The rose no longer dreams of the humans and all their ridiculous things

It hates all the mockery and pain their thought brings.

Even the birds now have all gone away

All have left except the rose who wastes yet another day.

More time has passed and the rose sits on the windowsill defeated and alone

This empty tower of dust and despair is its one and only home.

The rose would cry in anguish but there are no tears to shed,

‘Maybe your love will be here soon’ a stupid and childish voice echoes in its head.

The rose was Rapunzel once golden and fair

Now that young girl alas, is no longer there.

She has aged and her once vibrant hair is going grey

Much like her hopes that her love will save her one day.

She was a prisoner of her own thoughts and dreams

Which long ago have unravelled and split at the seams.

Dreams don’t just come on a white horse bounding up to you

If you truly want your dreams you need to chase them too.

So don’t be like Rapunzel and stay locked in your tower

Go out and explore the world from every field to every flower.

Chase your dreams and catch them if you can

It’s up to you no one else, no woman child or man.