This Morning

I woke up.

I sat on the bed, wrapped in the same teddy bear robe I've had since I was a teenager and looked out the window.

I allowed tears to fall until I noticed a solitary rose still left on the rosebush in the backyard.

I put on those clogs my aunt gave me, found a pair of scissors, and went outside.

Careful not to scratch myself on the thorns, I clipped it.

I examined it. Frail.

I smelled it. Its fragrance had all but gone.

I carried it back into my room and set it on my chest of drawers.

If roses could know things, I would want it to know that it died giving someone a bit of wonder instead of out there on the rosebush alone.