It was the last rose.
The deep red blossom
had not opened all the way
or perhaps had no intention of opening. Still I found it beautiful.
That was weeks ago.
Even now the rose sits there
in its vase.
The petals brown and withered. Yet even so I find it beautiful.
Not simply the blossom
but the twig from which it springs, the dark green leaves
that somehow have not changed. It is still a rose,
that remains as it was
from one day to the next.
And I find this everlasting rose beautiful in its essentiality
and hesitate to throw it out.
A comparison seems all too obvious so perhaps I’ll wait and let
my children throw it out.
One of these days.
On second thought
“one of these days”
might be a synonym for
“who knows when”
and as with many other things procrastination here is not
what’s called for.
So . . . out it goes.
Erika Bizzarri 
So lovely Eric. You find poetry in nature: a gift.
LikeLike
So lovely Erika. You find poetry
LikeLike
A rose is a rose is a rose.
LikeLike
So thoughtful, dear Erica… As you know, I so admire your use of language.
LikeLiked by 1 person
A beautiful telling, Erica, of a what we do, or don’t do, on this miraculous path. Essentiality indeed! Thank you for posting and quickening my day.
LikeLike
Delicately done, Erika, as ever!
It’s impossible to read or hear this without being reminded, of course, of Thomas Moore’s Irish poem ‘Tis the Last Rose of Summer’ – not to mention various song versions. But yours is fresh and twenty first century, as well as being inspired by the rose in your own home. But how interesting that a rose should have the same significance to different minds at different times and places.
Shame you chucked it out though!
LikeLike
You guessed it right though. The upper five or ten centimeters of the rose, with the flower, still sits in a vase. No water involved, and that at least would be simpler for my children to throw out.
LikeLike
Thank you Erika. Lovely.
LikeLike
Dear Erika, I am currently in Sarasota, Florida, visiting my aunt Mary to celebrate her 98th birthday together. I played your poem for her today and she really enjoyed it. Thank you very much. I will see you in June, Mike.
LikeLike
I have been watching that rose for some time and could relate to your comment,
“…I find this everlasting rose beautiful in its essentiality
and hesitate to throw it out.”
As you have seen, my CT home is filled with dried blossoms that someone more sensible would have discarded. But I have a personal relationship with each of them and I like watching them age as their colors fade in a way I find endearing.
The ending of your piece took me by surprise. Will I see that rose in her vase the next time we are together? Diane says, I’ll be on the lookout for her.
In any case, of course she will have remained in my mind’s eye.🥀
LikeLike