The Black Rose

A black rose sits
	near a window
	its purpose unknown
	it just sits.
The soft dark (black as night)
	surrounds the silken petals
	invisible thorns
	a single drop of blood.
Itís the darkness of a silent storm
	the darkness of a cloudy day
	the rose sits, waiting
	unmoving and still
Beyond the window
	in the clouds
	sunlight breaks through
	golden light wafts silently.
It falls on the black petals
	through the window
	it just goes to show 
	that not all things 
	light shines on is good.