My Rose

 

Her fragrance – enchanting.

Her color – unrivaled.

Her elegance – supreme,

yet still she has thorns.

 

She came to me by chance

as my path crossed hers

while she consummated her flowering,

yet still she has thorns.

 

The rose is second to no other flower.

I’ve picked the perfect one…

at the perfect hour,

yet still… she has thorns.

 

May 4, 1988

 

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