Poem - Withering Rose

like a rose to whither on the pillar,
on the pedastal said to be risen above the rest
falling and floating, petal by petal
untilt even the thorns go flat
landing on the ground to stepped and flattened
from the deep crimson turning to brown dust
to blow into the wind and becradled by grass
though dead, just like the rose.
in winter, with the birds, bouncing across the ground
frolicking squirrels, mice and moles, though the withered rose to just stay
idle, only idle, no longer an idol
in the wind, just to blow away.
the petals in the rain, saturated, pinned to the ground
unable to float any more now,
another rose grew in its place
more beautiful than the last
and it glowed bright, an unforgettable shine
as the other rose floated still, knowing the new rose was really only dormant
to see the gardener pick her out and put her high on that pillar
in a beautiful vase that was once of the other rose
the damp withered rose had to fly into the wind
crashing into the pillar
only to whither
again