Roses

They came closed, expectant with colorful promise

Twelve apologies, fresh and fragrant, on a spring morning

They opened slowly, delighted at sun's attentive rays

Twelve wishes, delicate and hopeful, blushing deeper red

They posed patiently, noticing novelty start to wane

Twelve wallflowers, deflated and dejected, lowering their heads

They withered steadily, starved of nutrients and faithful care

Twelve warnings, wrinkled and faded, beneath a graying sky

They fell apart, succumbing to foul, blackened blotches

Twelve reminders, bitter and broken, lying in the dust