THE UNWANTED ROSE

He scanned her with X- ray eyes,
His number twenty, a 14 year old virgin,
Such beauty, it seemed to him a blissful sin.
Like a shadow, he crept close.
Every move she took, every lane, every turn.
She felt his piercing eyes, burning her skin.
She quickened her pace,
He watched her hips sway, his heart began to race.
She turned her head, glanced nervously.
He whistled once, twice, then thrice.
He said something unthinkable;
Confessions of an insane lover,
Jargon of a crazy stalker.
She sweated excessively,
He kept scanning, talking, and coming closer.
She wished she were dead.
Wished she hadn't worn
Blue jeans and printed top, a shade of red.
He wanted to touch, once,
A stalker's lust knows no height.
She saw the rose from the corner of her eyes.
Dark red, wilted one,
Few leaves, its thorns pricking out.
She wanted to yell, wanted to shout.
He shoved the rose into her bag,
Stuffed it, roughly, left it dangling in mid air.
She shrieked in fright.
Rattling sound, flashing light,
His merciless, triumphant laughter.
Hot tears of anger burning her within,
She saw the glossy bike vanish.
The unwanted rose fell to the ground.
She wished she'd die!