Today the rose broke from its slumber
It didn’t talk…except when I talked
It didn’t grow…except when I grew.
It’s still there
Waiting for something,
Thirsting, but failing to wilt
Starving, yet unable to fall.
It exists, but will not be,
not yet at least.
It believes in potential, rather than the present
Seeing “what could be” versus “what is”
The leaves may grow…one day
Or petals may fall
Spring has come, and the rose has finally awakened.