Gardeners Rose
My brother he hangs with a frown upon his face next to the work of art I have created over the years How proud he would be if he could see all I’ve achieved though disappointed at how I’ve created a ghost town, he always loved life as much as his garden The silence rings so loud in my ears every time I stride down the street passing the long abandoned houses, the fading paint and crumbling bricks scream out the pain of its slow rotting My eyes cannot stand the sight as the phantom smell of decaying flesh fills my nose each time I walk past, yet I smile when I remember how each paid their debt to my brother such lovely neighbours they are I return to his blooming world of colour every day to tend to its beauty, I notice the blue of my gloves slowly fading with over use while reaching for a trowel He loved roses especially red ones, yet they only ever sold white in this small town, quite temper rising when I have to dye them, can’t have my brothers roses being such a pure colour now, the bees hate it “Hello ” the rose’s petals went flying when I jumped ripping the rose from its stem, I faced the voice with glaring eyes only to find thick curls barely contained behind a head with a single band, purple gloves fading like my own caught my immediate attention “Names Stacy, new neighbour!” her voice was cheery and soft face glowed with eagerness, so bright like the white roses I place a charming smile on, stepping close to shake the hand she reach over the panel fence “Ryan, my pleasure ” The weeks after our greeting resulted in a deep bond, with our love of gardening bringing us together as it had many times before She was smitten, her eyes leaked her craving for me, and so on that Friday afternoon I took her hand, which was surprisingly soft for such a dedicated gardener, and brought her into my brother’s
