The Rose of Red and White

A poem of my betrothed I have to yet to meet.

The darkened sky of night looms over
I lay my head to rest waiting to dream
Letting off the stress and anxiety of life
Time, itself, passes in a flash with no recollection
Why does this happen so?

In my dreams, I am not alive.
Rather, I am a dark and black bird of death
Alone and forgotten, I wonder the astral plains of time
I sit on a grave that seems to be mine alone
Not a single rose left behind.

As I wonder the nightmarish land of despair
I begin to suspect that I've no love from them
I continue to roam my mind at night
With the moonlight shining unto my thoughts
Then one day, it happened.

I sit on the grave, yet again, to see my name
On top of the grave was a rose stained with beauty
A red rose left with a white feather like a dove
The dove that had felt love for me the only moments we meet
She comes when I am no where to be seen.

I continue to wait patiently to see her again at my grave of dreams...

Author's Note

A poem for those who feel the same as I do.

Reviews

[Glen Yumang Manese]

AT FIRST GLANCE IN THE FIRST STANZA...I THOUGHT THIS WOULD NOT DEVELOP INTO A DARK WRITE...BUT AS I KEPT GOING THE NATURE OF YOUR LINES TAKES US IN A GLOOMY PLACE...AND THE USAGE OF THE RED ROSE AND WHITE FEATHER HAS SYMBOLISM IN THE LAST STANZA...

AND STILL YOU WAIT FOR HER TO COME ONE DAY...FOR NOW SHE LIVES IN YOUR DREAMS...