A wild, a lonely, a dark flower. But somehow it’s pure and covered by a colour of shadow. Black is the colour of the rose, of the wild flower.
Just like an angel of death and paradise it is. I keep looking at her all night, smell her, touch her. “Ah! You are so beautiful…” I wonder how can a black flower become so gorgeous, so mysterious and beauty even it just carrying a simple colour … how …?!
What if the cold white colour of ice cover this rose?! What if it’s smelting together with ice?! People see it is a wonderful view, a picture of ending love. A black ice rose…. But they never know, it’s the end of the rose, a frozen ending.
“It’s okey, I’ll protect you and your soul. I’ll join you soon….” I whisper to the flower that no longer can breath, no longer can bloom and smell it again . It feel cold, cold as winter ice… like it’s shivering and trying to tell me it’s last words:
“- Join me in death!”
-Mmhm .. lets be born again!
I look up through the window. It’s snowing, so pure and white. Then I look at the flower. All petals are fading away, one after one. I smell it last time, touch it with the last moment and close my eyes. Then I feel the last petal fall down to my hand. I give it a smile “ Ah .. you are too fast. I never gave you a name yet. But I guess we will meet again soon and I will give you a real name. I promise … !”
With the hand hold tight the petal, my heart pull no more …..
By DB






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