Skip to main content
Submitted by admin on

by msutaris

I hand my mother a rose White petals mean      surrender I watch her eyelashes open and close She takes it from my hand       breathes red onto delicate flower Her pearl teeth shiny not like the soft white of rose comes alive with      color drips with our blood She hands it back, I plant a new seed a new bush a new      thorn

See all the entrants to 65th Weekly Poetry Contest