Fiona Connor, Contributor.
He loves me… I once was a beautiful rosebud.
With budding petals and a growing stem.
I loved to feel the sunshine and hated to see the moon.
I grew tall and proud, and felt the Earth move beneath me.
He loves me not… I saw you one day, on a lazy afternoon.
I was enjoying a ray of sunshine,
When suddenly you blocked my view.
I did not mind, for soon you were gone,
And again the soft wind blew.
He loves me… You returned the next day and again blocked my view.
But this time you touched me
And plucked me from my stem.
I wondered where you would take me.
For I had never left my patch.
But I did not care as to me you seemed,
A very handsome catch.
You placed me in a pot of soil.
You cared for me each day.
I watched the sun through the clear glass
And soaked up each delicious ray.
I enjoyed this new life you chose for me,
A friend I had made at last.
But something changed inside you,
And it made me long for the past.
He loves me not… You moved me from my windowsill,
No sunshine can I see.
And all the time I wonder,
What is happening to me?
When once you stroked my petals,
now you tear and pluck them.
When once my stem was straight and proud,
Now is bent and broken.
My soil is parched,
my heart is aching,
And my leaves cry out for sunshine.
But nowhere can I find you.
Without me you have travelled.
So on my own I must go too.
To save myself, and perhaps find you.
He loves me… My stem is brittle, and my petals are falling,
But my soul is determined, and my old patch is calling.
I travel far and I travel wide, across a foreign land.
But soon I lose my way, and I need a helping hand.
Perhaps he will find me here, and we will go home together.
Perhaps he will find me here, and our bond will never sever.
Perhaps he will find me here, and he’ll bring me to my patch.
Perhaps he will find me here and be my perfect match.
He loves me not… I see a pond with ducklings,
Hope sparks within me.
I can quench my thirst and ask for guidance,
If they’ll be so kind to help me.
I crawl with all my might and I reach the pond’s edge.
My thirst overtakes me as
I plunge into the sea.
My stem regains its strength,
And my soil is fully quenched.
I drink and drink and drink,
Until my throat is sore.
But suddenly something happens,
I feel no better than before.
My petals wilt and drop.
One by one they fall.
My leaves turn brown and weak
There’s an aching in my core.
My head feels heavy, and my eyes begin to leak.
My stem can support me no more.
He loves me… I do not understand.
So I drink and drink and drink.
But with each gulp my body weakens
And I begin to shrink.
My stem shrivels,
my roots rot,
And my soil longs for air.
I wonder where you are, my love,
And if you ever cared.
For I know that I am dying,
And I know that I am scared.
Published by The Gown Queen's University Belfast
The Gown has provided respected, quality and independent student journalism from Queen's University, Belfast since its 1955 foundation, by Dr. Richard Herman. Having had an illustrious line of journalists and writers for almost 70 years, that proud history is extremely important to us. The Gown is consistent in its quest to seek and develop the talents of aspiring student writers.
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