A rose grew up from the concrete;
burst through earth like a Phoenix
poised perfectly to flourish in sun or shade—
its beauty seared into psyches of creatures
that supposedly find love at first sight.
Petals soft as cotton emit fragrant aromas summoning visitors
that bear peace offerings to woo secrets away from inside the rosebud’s walls.
Great Pretenders fake the funk once the rose blooms,
deflowering its innocence by clipping just above that fifth leaf.
Roses eventually wilt if left unattended on a shelf,
but bounce back resilient to breed new life on the vine.
Thorns hidden in the bush prick unwelcomed guests
leaving marks that demand respect,
never to be forgotten,
as thieves never leave their presence unscathed.
Even beautiful flowers possess defense mechanisms
which is why I don’t cut roses from the garden anymore.
They too deserve a chance to flourish,
Rosemarie Wilson aka One Single RoseTM
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