Rose
Elizabeth Hong
A girl plants a rose amidst a field of lilies.
She cherishes it dearly
as though it is all that matters to her.
Despite the others all having lilies,
she continues to watch her rose.
A girl nurtures a rose amidst a field of lilies.
The others only refer to her
as the girl with the rose.
Nothing more than that, and yet she is satisfied.
The girl does not care. She is happy.
She patiently waits for the bud to bloom.
A girl detests a rose amidst a field of lilies.
She is tired of its thorns. Her fingers are scraped,
and she is laughed at by the others.
She regrets having bought its seeds.
She wishes she had just planted a lily instead.
Turning her back on the flower she tried so hard to grow,
she leaves.
A rose stands alone amidst a field of lilies.
It has finally begun to bloom.
It's tall, unwavering even to the wind.
Abandoned, yet not forgotten, it sits.
It waits for the girl to return.
A girl mourns a rose amidst a field of lilies.
She recalls the day she planted it, all that time ago.
She remembers wondering how beautiful its colors would be,
watching it as the seasons change.
A pang of regret strikes her heart and
the others laugh at her once more as she treads on.
Through the lilies.
Back to her thorny rose.
A woman holds a rose amidst a field of lilies.
Despite their ups and downs, she is proud.
Proud of its colors, its resilience,
even its thorns.
The others with their lilies still laugh as she
stands alone, holding her rose.
She no longer cares. She has learned to love it.
As she turns to leave the lilies, her eyes catch
a familiar shade of red.
A woman holding a rose stands amidst a field of roses.
