rose red

inside her house of daffodils,
she let her days go by,
they plucked out all the flowers one day,
and told her not to cry.

she searched the meadows for scented bloom,
but returned, an empty heart,
it rained on her that night so long,
the stars had played their part.

but tasting hope and tear and rain,
a rose burst out from dust,
it reached out for the golden skies,
another day came like it must.

she saw the rose's deepening hue,
and wondered why it blushed,
she gathered it in her empty arms,
back to the day she rushed.

when night fell dark, she held the rose,
withering, yet fragrant still,
and wondered why it smelled so sweet,
though it wasn't a daffodil.