Thorned bushes have your heart then?
When wiry brush scrapes your thigh,
and climbs until you cannot reach,
will you then think again on your position sailing from the sky?
There are a hundred blushing roses,
that’s true enough, but do you truly
adore the sour odor that comes
at every petal, seeping into coffins,
stagnant in your unwitting garden?
Are freesias too simplistic for you?
Such a careless breeze they sway,
underwhelming presence, or perhaps
you are afraid to leave the roses,
because you know their secrets…
I am simply a road-side daisy, watching life race by, entertaining thoughts of grandeur. Will I kiss the sky? Reliant
on the mercy of nature,or the kindness of man, but I am nurtured.
despite all odds.
Tell me roses,
are you loved?