In the Rose Field



a prose poem by Haley

An army of roses dancing in color in the sunlight has an everlasting radiance in a variety, each shade contributing to the mismatched rainbow. They sway together in a slow dance to the wind. A soft soliloquy whispered ages ago is spoken in the breeze each night to commemorate the teen lovers that spent each day there; for the roses mourn the beauty of their love. The field, a mosaic creation of nature lays vacant for no glimmering eyes to admire upon first glance. Love made in the symbol of romance, the sound of giggles and kisses softly come from the ground as that’s where it took place in the spring days of the grand past. The cherry wine and orange sky was a mural that reflected on to the roses, like the smile that reflected on to her face as each “I love you” danced across his tongue and into her ears.  His voice dark and rustic, a mysterious tone that not only allured the girl but the roses. They leaned towards him to touch him lightly in awe of him. He was timid and cold but the way she pressed her lips to his neck and nuzzled herself into him warmed the void in his heart. Peony pink cheeks and a flower crown in her hair, she twirled in her cream white skirt like a ballerina in the Nutcracker. Their hands clasped together like the missing piece to the puzzle, inseparable. The rhythm of their bodies was a song whistled by a hummingbird; you could taste the sincerity in each sound. Winter blew her arctic chills over the roses with frostbite kisses and snowflakes. They drooped to the beat of the wind and it whistled “come back.”

Haley is a junior. 


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