I am the rose, in the garden unkept and overflowing

Beneath the weaving trellis and its knots of vines, exhausted by the bombardment of roots

The splinters of wood from the abandoned shed rain on me yet I’m remontant, ever blooming, disbudding in differing hues of vermilion and cerise

I size a spray of roses, pampered by yet another lonely spring adding fragile fragrances

Breathe me.

I’m oblivious to the many weeds crowding around me and the fact that I haven’t smiled in seasons

I will always stay and this garden is my home

You tend to my every need and I am your everything,

Purebred through and through, delicately treasured as though you thought I’d break if you clipped me.

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