Rose

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Long stemmed and pink,
Perfect,
With petals like kisses which make you blush –
So deep and tender and full –
You look away embarrassed
As if caught prying into something private,
Intimate.

So many folds and twists are
Enticing,
Soft velvet touch –

Comforting
As though she has a maternal instinct
To shelter and protect.
Respecting her secrecy and leaving her be –
Is the only way to honour her sanctuary.

She stands tall and upright,
Sure of herself –
Her position assured by the thorns down
Her spine –
‘Mine’ she says, as if
Defending her right to solitude.

Her scent is soft and feminine,
Delicately fragrancing a room, and –
Allowing my thoughts to meander in
Circles and curls.
Imagination unfurls and
Wafts through my brain,
All my pain forgotten, as she soothes
My worries and settles my pulse into
Rhythm with hers.
A soft thudding of continuous life-blood,
Fluttering into my heart,
Fills me afresh with new energy –
Peace.

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When she is in her prime she
Glows
Radiating beauty and calm.

Full bodied and bursting with pride –
She flowers her way into my consciousness,
Enlivening me with her sense of fun.
Knowing that she is gorgeous.

But –

It is when she is nearing her end, that
She is at her most beautiful.
Her head hangs humbly
Looking at her feet.
Graceful to the last –
She surveys the earth for a resting place
Wherein she can retire to sleep,
Freely making the ultimate sacrifice –
That her death may provide
New life.

Certain of her contribution to the rich and
Nourishing earth,
She gently accepts her fate –
Letting her petals go one by one
In remembrance
Of her glory days,
Carpeting her death-bed with a rich quilt –
Soft as silk to lie on –
And releases her spirit to the air.
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