This is the second time I have tried to do this post. My Facebook friends list is filled with writer’s. I did that on purpose. I surrounded myself on social media with writer’s and artists and crafty people, so i no longer felt as alone. This morning, one of the writer’s, Author T L Grey, posed a question. As she posted two pictures with it…one of her (a truly lovely woman) and one of a soft white rose with pink edges….I doubt that she wanted the answer I gave her. The question?  “If a rose could speak,  what would it say?” My response?  “That it was dying and missed it’s bush. The loneliness was unbearable.” Well at first she responded Carpe diem. Then she changed it to read “Why be one of several upon a bush instead of singled out and appreciated in the small space of time in which to bloom? The bush will bloom more flowers but this one particular flower has only a small time in which to shine.” I found this as thought provoking as the original question,  and a bit telling.  So I responded…”While that is true, most do focus on the ways that they are different.  To their own detriment.  The question was what a rose would say. I have always thought it sad that to enjoy a flower we have to kill it. So i hear the sadness of it’s own imminent demise. I hear regret that the rose did not appreciate the beauty of being a part of the bush until the bush was no longer there.  Thus I hear loneliness.”
                       Now understand please that I do realize the fact that my response was slightly morbid. However her question wasn’t what we hear from the rose’s unique beauty. It wasn’t what does the rose symbolize.  So I spoke what I feel any living thing would feel as they die. Death is usually a morbid topic.
                    As to her statement about being just another on the bush? Well have you ever seen a rose bush up close?  No two roses are exactly alike.  So it is a riotous community of individuality. I lived in a place once with three bushes. They were amazing. I admit the question and resulting conversation was an inspiration for me. So i did what my weird little poetic heart does. I did another poem for my latest volume.  And because I can,  I am sharing it with you…..

The voice of a rose

The voice of the rose
Depends on the ear
That hears and it’s
point of view.

The choice of a
Listening heart,
As to hear such
As sadness, 
Adventure or
romantic speech.

None less valid,
Each in their own
Way right.

For why can
The voice of the rose
Not be as complex
as the Heart of man.

*her rose*

*I found this one on Google. *