Waiting to be picked

She sits among the field of flowers.

Although she’s beautiful enough to sit amongst the first row of roses

She sits near the sunflowers

Facing the sun

Beautifully simple like the white daisies


And she waits

And she watches


The princes coming in

Searching for their rose


She qualifies as a rose

But maybe not as graceful and stunning as most


She knows she’s a rose that should be upfront


But feels more comfortable sitting behind

With the wildflowers

With daisies

And the love and memories of the sunflowers


Where it’s warm

Where it’s safe


So there she sits

Waiting for a prince


They come


They go


Selecting other roses


Some don’t even notice her

Some don’t take her seriously

Some just politely smile and move to the next

Some kick dust on her as they walk on by


She wonders


She is meant to be only a weed

With an unattainable prince


Sometimes she’ll stand up and turn around

To pull up a pauper trying to reach her


it’s just to occupy her time

So she lets them go


she waits for her prince

To reach out his hand

And pull her up instead


She holds her breath

When she sees  a new prince come in

Only to find

He walks past her

And picks a different rose





So she plays with the paupers till she’s done


And returns to her spot





Facing the sun

Head held high

With a smile glorious enough to light up a dark room

But cries inside


As they keep walking by




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s