Page 32 - Images Literary Magazine 2016 - 2017.pdf
P. 32
The Rose
By Olivia Collucci, Molly Dolan, Kara Gilliam, Grade 8
Travelling down the peaceful path,
That Chara always goes,
Until there came that eerie boy,
Who handed her a rose.
Its petals bright and full and vivid,
Its stem was green as life,
Upon that stem a single thorn,
Shining keenly as a knife.
Its scent was strong and very sweet,
Its fronds were soft and thin,
The leaf had whispered a lullaby,
As it fluttered in the wind,
The boy stared at Chara then,
Shyly and with fright,
She held his hand with scars bright red,
And overlooked the sight,
The next day the boy was back,,
And waved so gingerly,
But yet his arm was bruised and harmed,
And his face was washed of glee.
?I?m fine,? he whispered timidly,
The rose Chara held low,
A sudden thorn had pricked her hand,
And from it did blood flow.
In desperation and utter pain,
She pressed her fingers on her lips,
The blood had tasted of hard cold metal,
Flowing from her fingertips,
The next day they did meet again
And Chara held his hand,
His fingertips as cold as ice,
And palms as rough as sand.
