The Rose Was A Box


Its petals closed, its warmth conscientiously hidden

It was a box, for to it, none was bidden

Its loneliness, unvarying, from whence it was a seedling

To breathe, to taste life’s warmth, for it, self-forbidden


I saw the Rose and I called out to it

It heard my call and hastened to retreat

It thought itself a box, resigned to defeat

But for this Rose, my entreaty I would repeat


The Rose heard me; it lifted up its face

Regal and sturdy, did it not know its place?

The garden indeed was filled, but to me, this rose took all space

I had found this Rose, and not so soon would I replace


The box was gone, the Rose had known

For tiny bits of trust in its petals I had sown

Distrust and shame, far away, blown

With this Rose, seeds of companionship, lovingly grown


Aglow and replete, the Rose stands tall

Dusk till dawn, not one of its petals fall

I am with this Rose, for it I gave my all

It knows my name, it responds to my call




5 thoughts on “The Rose Was A Box” by MildredHughes (@mildredhughes)

  1. I love this. So tender and loving.

  2. This indeed is from the recess of a tender and loving heart.Me love

  3. Great poem, @mildredhughes. I like that you used rhymes in a very natural way, and I liked the positive message too.

  4. Sweet, sweet poem, i liked its message. Kudos!

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