A beauty on the outside,
Slowly dying within,
Take me somewhere today, I haven’t been.
~
Don’t look at me in splendor,
Approach me with interest,
Center my thoughts, find my grin
~
When a woman is pensive,
Much like a rose,
Sat quietly in the light, beginning to grow.
~
Come to me she beckons,
Velvet to the touch,
Warmth of your heat, begins the death of me.
~
To be on display for your charms,
We’d take it no other way,
Unfolding petals, disarmed.
Oldest Daughter & Red Headed Sister 
“slowly dying within…..”
???? I’m gonna be one of your only detractors today and say REALLY??? Sounds so depressing, beautiful on the outside but dying on the inside. Dude, it was beautifully written as usual, but left me feeling a bit lonesome, but perhaps that is what you wanted me to feel 😉
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Aren’t all things living “slowly dying within”, Mr. J?
I have a soft spot for your detracting. I suppose it sends the message of grab whatever it is you want now. Not to wait.
Thank you for telling me that my poem was beautiful, Kenneth. Maybe I did want you to feel lonesome. Am I capable of such mean wishes? No! Let me just answer that now before you go on a rant. 😉
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Beautiful!
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Thank you!
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Just lovely Audrey.
🙂
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Thank you, Stacilys. I’m trying to get out of my box a bit. We’ll see.
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Good for you. So far, so good.
🙂
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Thanks! 🙂
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Very neat picture…the unfolding petals, disarmed. Coolio.
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Thank you, Duke.
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Oh I like this–it has an old-fashioned charm to it.
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Thank you, Starralee! I’m sorta old-fashioned, so I take your compliment!!
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Well that’s a relief.
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🙂 Phew!
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Thoughts of red roses in all of your shades in this poem are spring-warm, Audrey. Good one.
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Aww, you’re showing off again, Mark. Thank you so much for your kind words.
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Just a little flexing of my literary muscle, Audrey, that’s all. 🙂
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Well, it was like poetry, Sir. I like getting a bit back. Twas nice, thank you. 🙂
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Your work makes me try to live up, Audrey. Thank you for that.
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Made me blush! Thank you.
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The scent, I hope there is a lovely rose scent. It is always so disappointing when you have this magnificent rose and it has no scent.
Leslie
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I couldn’t agree more, Leslie. Red tends not to have a scent, but when it does. Wonderful.
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Love “velvet to the touch”. The very thing I think of when looking at a beautiful rose. Beautiful poem Audrey.
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I think it’s just the right description, Michael. Thank you.
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