Don't Pick a Rose: A Poem
Petals of a rose like the angel's lips
whispering love through gentle smile
kisses to their morning dew like tiny sips
with that opiate aroma enjoyed for a while.
How many strange stories a rose could tell
that dew as if tears of unanswered devotion
its thorns evoking pain of the jealousy spell
or a decoration for the passionate emotion.
Did its aroma mingle in that long hair
for "good night" kiss to feel so sweet
now with closed eyes to still be there
as a one time magic never to repeat.
If diamonds are forever, so is the rose
with all it signifies coupled with stars
all that is embraced or sadly goes
to fill some pages of our memoirs.
So don't pick a rose, for you'll never really know
where it may end up, in a sad diary or in a hair
to set your amorous, impatient heart aglow
or to stay in vase dipped in teary prayer.