He was my most delicate flower  

My favorite peony

Who seemed resilient of harsh summer showers

He held my aurora

He was my king, my aliferous deity


A dulcet fragrance is mixed with spring’s breeze

His kalon petals would balter  

I whisper “I dream of living near the sea”

He'd grin

Knowing I’ll never turn out as I aspire to be


With more love than the last

Everyday I would greet him  

Nurture him, tell him wild stories of my strange past


I thought too highly of him

I took my sharpest scissors

I lacerated his stem carefully

I killed him and pressed him  

In an effort

To preserve my love of him

For eternity

He has vibrant orange petals.

I would fight

anyone who refers to them as dull.  



His orange petals

Are the color of my curiosity

When I wonder what worlds he beholds.



The worlds I’ll never know.



His sturdy green neck

extends to kiss the sky

or to just watch the clouds go by.    



Without him, my heart would have no summer time.



I run to him.  

my lily white fingers caress his delicate petals,  

I admire his natural beauty.



I see his petals begin to unfold

He blooms at the sight of me.

His petals curl back,

creating a boasting stance



His tepals look me straight in the eye

I don’t blink, I can see right through his outside

I can peer into his soul,

I smile, I laugh


Knowing nothing in this world is under our control.



But

When we are near each other

The harsh, sudden summer rains

do not rip through his soft petals



I don't care how wet my hair gets

after the storm

I find myself dancing along with

His wind swayed groove

during torrential down pours



My smile grows

and grows

and grows

Because of him



ad

Perched atop a table, surrounded by some jazz

Sits a pink rose as glamorous as

A golden age Hollywood starlet  

This rose is nocturnal, resides in her own darkness


The rose lives in shades of grey  

Like the remnants of cigarettes in a nearby ashtray

With the occasional ring of cherry red lipstick  

Her intoxicating perfume makes men sick


The fragrance of a pink rose

Never does as shes told

Circulates the room like a cloud of smoke

And dances around as if life were a joke  


Almost transparent in the full moon’s light  

A breeze knocks the perfume out of sight  

Natural Beauty is an oddity of her own

With blush pink petals, this rose stands alone


The fragrance drifts out of town  

Near some trailer parks, waiting for something to go down        

Traveled along the highway’s long, slick road

The fragrance belongs in a dream world of her own


Some dare to bottle her, capture her essence

Fools! Will they ever learn their lesson?

Somethings must remain untouched by man

For they have been beautiful since their lives began.