I met some roses

I met some roses a

few days ago.

They lay there crying

on the ground;

rain was covering

their hurt bordeaux.

I watched, they slowly

colored brown.

I kneeled before them

and touched their branches,

I couldn’t help

that it felt wrong.

I asked them if they

knew the answers,

if they still felt like

they were strong.

It seemed like life

had fully left them,

so I took them with me

to give them care.

Not a whisper,

no reaction.

I, with the time,

became more scared.

The days pass by;

I gaze them resting

in my warm, protected,

cozy room.

I know in time

we’ll start investing

to set in motion

their new bloom.

I don’t want them

to get more bruises,

but I can’t protect them

against the rain.

If that’s why they

search for excuses,

they might forget

why they were made:

with those red roses

in the garden,

blackened colors will be

wiped away;

colors are

the only things  

that, with these roses, will

forever stay.

They need their time,

that's what I’ll give them,

until they’re done

for their new start.

I’ll keep them always

in my garden;

they'll be forever

in my heart.