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Roses
Waterfalls erupted from the
Green pools rippling over
Red cheeks. She feels useless, but she
Cannot help but hover
Over the idea that her
Tears will help. And maybe
They do, for the rushing waters
Let none through, though lazy
Streams are not always shielded from
Sharp stones that lie below.
Her shield and composure are lost,
They’ve broken from the flow
And have drown at the bottom with
Her deepest, darkest, fears.
But he always stepped into her
murky waters. It clears
As he reaches down, far, far down,
To grasp at her pale hand.
It’s cold, but warmth rejuvenates
And she begins to stand.
His demeanour mimics his eyes;
They’re a small ocean, laced
With strands of her dark hair.
He knows them well, hands placed
Atop her head. She leans into
Him, falls crashing into
Calm oceans, rippling through each drop.
Green pools settle, their bright hue
Alive once again as they still.
She is silent, for she
Does not know how to repay him
For answering her pleas
Each time. But he knows, and he does
Not ask for anything
In return. He merely holds her
Close, even through the sting
Of icy skin. She clings tighter,
No longer forcing earth
To bare her tears or cries for help;
It’s him, that pain is worth.
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