Withering Rose

Again, I write to you without plan  For reply. How can I expect you. A rose,  To understand the inner working of paper to pen. With shimmering beauty soon to journey hiatus. You will be missed.  Without arms to extend. I surely doubt you'd understand why I continue to reach. The depth of thorns that prick my fingers.  The knowledge of expectation proceeds. Soon to drip. Splashing against the concrete.  A quick withdrawal, knowing that pain is temporary.  As time is of the essence. Gentle rose. With smiles that flourish just as your petals. You will be missed. Without legs to walk.  I surely doubt you understand the distance it takes to catch a mere glimpse of you.  A stationary ecstasy that eludes in silence.  A language passed by the smoothest touch. As the wind flutters. Becoming a bit colder. With shimmering beauty soon to journey hiatus.  Don't be gone too long