The Rose

The rose shone bright colored red
Only light in the bare garden bed
Carried by the wind, a whisper was heard
The rose stood tall and listened, its leaves hung off every word
The wind blew off, its warning said
The rose stood still and tapped its head
Not wanting to believe the wind, the rose pretended not to hear
But soon the sky was darkening, and the rose was struck with fear
The storm was approaching, almost there
The rose couldn't move, frozen scared
Raindrops fell, sparkling in the disappearing sun
Trees swayed to and fro, but the rose wasn't having fun
Above the garden bed, dark clouds hung
The rose deepened its roots, and to the ground they clung
A bright fork of lightening flashed from a cloud
Thunder boomed, deafeningly loud
The rose it shook with the strong gusts that blew
Until it couldn't hold on any longer, and off it flew
Tumbling through the air, petals flying about
The rose was panicking so it tried to shout
Though no one heard the roses tiny cry
The rose was feeling sick, it didn't like to fly
Rain kept on pelting down
Until the rose fell to the ground
Tattered and broken, petals lost
Torn apart and dying, the storms lonely cost
The rose looked to the sky where the clouds were now passing by
Remembering what the wind had said, the rose now knew it wasn't a lie
Beautiful red now was fading, it once had shone
The roses color had been sapped away, and now was gone
Lying withered on the ground, Grey not red
The beautiful rose was now dead.