When I become the bouquet, petals bare,
my thorny stems protective, pointedly,
erectly stand staunch sentinels that dare
encroachment by soft finger’s frailty.
My sweet aroma wafts with your breath warm
inhaled within enclosed by billowed breast
where heart beats’ timbre rivals summer’s storm
when past love’s loss lies still, left unredressed.
My moistened leaves reach toward your waiting lips
where liquid dew of mine awaits your kiss
as love’s sweet nectar gentle lover sips
such tantalizing taste those loveless miss.
In this your garden from wherein love grows,
you are my love as I remain your rose.
