Lost in a forest of roses
laying down beneath the buds
I stare up into the blooms
finding each is bright
each its own
They remind me of the ones
I have loved
Each man undoubtedly beautiful,
strength shown in their stance
But oh...the thorns
Thorns are unavoidable
maybe the pain caused
makes the rose (man) seem
more beautiful
to me
Gazing at these roses,
I find myself wondering
how many I will see
bloom and grow before my eyes
How many more will I give away?
Maybe I'm mixing metaphors
or similes, I couldn't say
Maybe it's silly to say
or silly to ask
But I still wonder...
When
will
the rose
be
for me?
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