written by Kaitlyn Gallo-Cover. Kaitlyn (she/her) is a fourth year Creative Writing major at University of California Riverside. She wrote her first poem when she was 12 and has enjoyed learning and growing as a poet ever since. In the near future, she hopes to obtain her degree in Creative Writing with a minor in English and publish her first poetry book.
The warming spring sun
melts winter memories
from the leaves of
the little white rose.
With a sigh and a stretch, she awoke
stunned looking left and right
once fellow buds have now bloomed
bees and butterflies greet them
and her too.
Her fellow rose-mates
giggled as they were tickled
by aphids sucking away their sap
and their leaves greened when called beautiful
but
the little white rose frowned.
This is what she was supposed to want
having her nectar and pollen taken,
her petals touched,
being smelled,
and being plucked
but she hoped for so much more
she wanted to fly with the birds,
travel into ant tunnels
and hold and hug a star.
Her fellow bloomed buds dismissed her thoughts
they shouted that this is all they are,
“our nectar and pollen are for nurturing others!
our sweet fragrance is meant only for others’ noses!
we are meant to be picked and admired by strangers and
we are just pleased to be!”
the little white rose wept
A dream was sucked out of her everyday by the bees
her hope weakened with each passerby’s sniff
and each day prickles grew, and petals fell
and she felt like she was no more.
When her little bud days became a distant memory,
she realized she had only one petal
“how did this happen?” she thought,
she didn’t feel the the others fall off,
now this last one is aching to be let free
“but what am I supposed to be without any petals?”
the little white rose pondered.
The other roses snickered and turned from her
as she cried out her questions,
“what do I do when I have nothing left to give,”
will I still be called beautiful?”
they could not give her any answers;
but in her somber state
she looked and saw that no bees or butterflies were around her,
and no passerby dare set their eyes on her,
she reached with her browning leaves and tore off her last petal.
All of her nectar was gone,
pollen taken,
and petals all fallen
nobody wanted to smell, touch, pick, or take from her anymore
she looked up to the stars with open reaching leaves and
the little white rose smiled.
Image: Daisies by Ankita Nishant Khimesra
Ankita Khimesra (she/her) moved to Dublin from India in 2017 with her family. She is a qualified Chartered Accountant but because of her keen interest in Art she has decided to pursue a career in this field.
