The Rose

You used me so,
Like a bee on a rose.
Sucking out the sweetness,
Leaving a dry, empty form,
Still possessing beauty,
But devoid of soul.
And when you flew away,
I faded, I wilted,
Nearly lay down and died.
But I dug deep within my roots,
Finding nourishment, strength,
Enough to stand tall again,
Proud, resolute, lovely,
Full of delicious nectar.