Rose

A promising red rose screams out to me in the garden. Picked it up, took it home, let it sit on the counter, out of impulse and admire.. Day by day, quicker and quicker, it shivers away and turns into nothing of value. I hold onto it, becauee I'm scared to know thats true. Sooner and sooner, regret kicks in and greets me with a punch, realizing that theres no use of this rose anymore, its no fun. It takes up space and its really annoying. Still, I hold onto it because I don't know what else to do.