Roses

I love to look at roses

The blood-red ones the best.

They caress at my fingers

And stand out from the rest.

The yellow ones much brighter

Than the soothing whites.

As poignancies incarnate

Play succor to dull nights.

My gaze remains enraptured

My mind assail all gloom

When I treat my senses

To blood-reds in the bloom.

Some give in to romance

To few it just unveils

Some tender mysteries hidden.

To me, “It’s Something Else”.

Its fragrance makes for Heaven

Fills my half-drunk mind

Of all that was born lovely

Its name I cannot find.

Its shade a red of passion,

A Carmine left undone.

At places a deep scarlet

Left baking in the Sun.

With invite in each petal

And intrigue in its breast

Too lazy to awaken

Too frail to be at rest.

I know not if its earthy

Or Angels in exile.

I only feel a timid joy

When ‘Roses’ make her smile.

photo: gettyimages.com