My Rose

Loves blindness to pain

there is not much controversy over the exquisite beauty of a rose...

warm, deep, burgundy in color...

her silky, smooth almost edible pedals...

the way her curves flow so tightly together as if they are dancing,

so intricate in design one might believe there is a spectacular secret within...

strong, bright, green leaves holding with pride our beloved flower,

found almost anywhere, her meaning the universal sign of love...

enjoyed by anyone who received such a gift, our eyes gazed over by her beauty.

one thing forgotten, love being blind, with every rose comes a thorn...

and she is mine.

she has a way of filling me with the most happiness my heart can bare,

a mere sight of her can melt it all, 

forgetting all she has pricked before

a rose my love you are, my rose and my thorn.

Reviews

[JC]

This poem flows as easily as that rose and is a subject we can all relate to, that duality of love and desire, the pain and happiness. Great read.

[Forest Green]

Absolutely delightful...not one line out of place...fits together like the petals it describes.

Excellent...

[Morrigan Nicole]

beautifully written.

-Amabael Kaaera