The art of unfinished poetry

The Rose
It was a harsh harsh winter
each thorn a deadly splinter 
All the flowers dead and gone
The battle for destruction won

When all seamed dead
Sun shine shon on the flower bed
A shimmer of hope
A single rose willing to cope

After the harshness of winter
Spring was starting to glinter
The reddest rose
Swaying gently as the wind blows

With the rose bush blooming
And summer looming
The roses filled the open space
Not a winters trace

With metaphorical interpretation
And close examination
The rose is teaching us a lesson
To never lose hope in the darkest days

A poem may not rhyme
but it doesn't make it any less of a poem
poetry is from the heart
you know when your poem is ready
Try it
 
 
 
This took me ages, so please do not copy!!!!!