Black Rose

Grown out from the ground, white as the snow capped blanket of ice,
tiny petals reaching out into the world, spikey thorns only now grappling
with the real world as the sun beat down on its back.

But the sun tanned its petals, a deep crimson blush enveloping
the delicate stem, an elegance falling over the sky,
an air kiss to the rain as it satisfied its thirst.

The rain clouds turned dark, storms taking over,
the midnight universe shadowing the petals, the blackest black
taking over, trying to beat down the rose.

But it held still and strong, refusing to bow down to the power
of the tornado overhead. Rebellion, the Roisin Dubh, 
surviving while the other flowers submitted or died.