Red Roses

I gave a pot; it was forgot

love needs water and fresh air

did we care

obvious that thorns are there

thought I had stronger gloves

didn’t see the damage dropped

picking off the points

and though the perfume smiled

we should know the wild’s our style

not cultivated, no motivation

I live on weeds

never close day’s eyes

blow kisses when sun lion dies

follow wind blown wishes

weave a chain to dial the time

love me, love me not

find me, before my ground’s bare

hold me, before my crown rots,

bring me one last buttercup.

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