Thursday, November 17, 2005


A friend told me to take it slow
to stop awhile, come smell a rose
beside the stream where she still goes
a bud, a vine, a rosepatch grows

I stopped and sat amongst the vine
breathed in pleasure's sweetened wine
a sumptious meal for all to dine
I thought to take, but it wasn't mine

To spend day bent over flower
filled with fragrance felt within
vines cling about with bursts of power
new petals emerge, a life begins

A rose is more than flower and vine
stamen, petal or dewdrop still
a heady essence of colour divine
a creation of life, it's terms fulfilled

No comments: