Red roses given are a gift sublime
And capture love’s sweet essence in perfume;
But blossoms crowning thorny stems remind—
Short distance sits between sharp barb and bloom.
As love can bring both pleasure and great pain
So fitting then this symbol of true love;
Though charms abate, the memories there remain,
With pangs or pleasures ever hearts to move.
A bitter sweetness thus enshrines the rose
Whose flourish fades, yet favor transcends time,
As floral odors on a lover’s clothes
Wane from the silk, but linger in the mind;
Though scented petals oft love’s stage adorn—
Rare is the heart that never braves a thorn.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.