#midnight regrets

Roses in December, a rare sight

An occurrence once in a blue moon

For if a rose can bloom at the end of the year

At the end of ones life one as well might

The rose - an overrated flower

As is the idea of achievement

For achievement comes in many forms

Each carrying their own significance

As I write, I think, why roses?

A symbol, a stereotype, a status

An overglorified gift flower for the achiever

directing its thorns at whoever opposes

Instead of roses, why not lilies?

Those delicate, pure petals

displaying humility even after years of devotion

Devotion to life and striving through its melancholies

It's 1am thoughs, I suppose

that make me question roses

It's not their fault they're linked to greatness

just like the ideas of achievements imposed

Roses in December, a rare sight

Not everyone can witness

And hence society's pressured into watering plants

And hence being remembered is overglorified

So now that we've discussed

what makes a rose so special

can we ponder why winter, end of year,

is compared to the time before biting the dust?

Depressing image, winter days

Everything's stagnant, frozen stiff

Symbolizing death is too harsh as it has beauty

And tho things faded, the main structure stays

But it doesn't have to be so

Not the best, but not waste

If not the roses, the snow itself

The snow holds sculptures, footprints, plants for spring

Let me retreat into the comfort of fog without haste

And each snowflake is unique too

Different patterns, paths taken

Falling to earth, I know the ground is nourished