Winter rose.

She was that perfect flower who shone, forbidden, in the garden.

She had sprouted in the most unlikely place, in the most difficult time.

And yet she was there.

Gleaming and glittering like she knew something I did not.

But if you lean over to pick her, you will bleed from the sharp and protective thorns that guard her sacred beauty.

Soon, you will stop trying, accept your defeat, and settle instead for the bent weeds on the side of the frosted road.

The rose may believe there is something wrong with her, but she is only waiting.

Waiting for the one who is brave enough to stand the pain of the thorns.

Waiting for the one man who will never desert her, never give up, and will love her until the day she dies.

Just review and tell me your prompt/story title/thoughts. (only K-T. I don't do M.)

~MA