The speaker pictures themselves as a rose stranded in a desert, and the whole poem is built on that single image. Surrounded by nothing but sun and sand, the rose has no company and no place to belong. It grows thorns, which reads like a defence against a land that was never meant for it. Day by day its petals brown and dry out.
The feeling underneath is isolation, and the sense of being unwelcome. Even the wind seems to scold the rose for simply being there, shouting that it's in the way. The sun grows larger and fiercer, as if the pressure keeps building. In the last line, one final gust knocks the rose down and it stays where it fell.
The mood is bleak and weary, ending in surrender rather than hope. The poem suggests someone who has struggled to fit in somewhere unfamiliar and finally runs out of strength. The title's pun on "Parched Proses" fits, since the dryness runs through every line.