In the middle of the room <br />the hand moves so slowly. <br />The petals open for years <br />rich in tears by the window <br />packed around, a faded rose. <br /> <br /> Where ever spring stayed <br />full and green each stem was. <br />The one thorn so familiar did <br />always bring a bout two curtsy. <br /> <br />The swelling finger swoons gently <br />as the swan opens white long wings, <br />as feet push into the water, flying off. <br /> <br />The rose, now weeps to the touch <br />never to be touched, and life it spills. <br />Lifting the vase bitter tasting is sleep.<br /><br />Is It Poetry<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/two-see-your-suicide/
