The Spirit Called Rose

A lovely poem about the spirit of a rose.

From the legs of an insect I fell,
And below the surface I dwelled,
Cramped and dark, yet I know not why,
Oh how I do wish to see the sky,
I know I am here for a reason,
Yet it is not my season…
To express myself in my greatest form,
To listen to God's call like solider to horn,
I've dwelled in the hair of young women and beautiful crones,
I've dwelled in beautiful gardens and brought luxury to homes,
My scent is lovely everyone knows,
For behold, my friend, I am Rose.
And I am beautiful.

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