The Winter Rose

Days have gone past
and still the cold remains
all this snow, and we haven't seen the last
and the sky is a gray stain.

The wind blows
and ice hangs from the bare trees
even the rabbit knows
this isn't where he wants to be.

Outside, we tread carefully
trying not to slip
but we fall rather ungracefully
and we suffer chapped lips.

The coyote, weary and thin
can hardly find a warm place
despite everywhere that he's been
and it's an ongoing race.

In the midst of it all -

A rose encrusted in ice
but underneath, a beautiful red hue
beauty preserved in a land not so nice
to me and you.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem

This Poems Story

Beauty can be found even in a desolate landscape.