A peaches dawn climbs
A deep-breathing dark blue sky:
Flowers, a warm breeze.

delicate petals unfold
and swallows swoop and glide
in a dance of new beginnings
as the earth breathes
a gasp of renewal
and green stretches
from beneath the cold grey

each bud
is a promise
each raindrop
a melody
and the sun
wraps its arms
around the world
lifting shadows
with gentle warmth

as hope blooms
in every corner
i grow with the flowers
learning to bloom
in the season of becoming
as spring whispers
softly through the trees

Sweet opus, sweeter hope
Anger in the same, of a friends stare?
Sent from here to eternity, a chastity's cope
Through the eyes of friendship, we know a care...

Sentiment of challenges, asked to contain
A laugh of days long austerity
The grace or the cramp of resolve, to maintain
A hopeful live and let it be known, the choice of a vanity

Sweet hope, sweeter opus
Set to livid forces, we sake a chance meeting
With advancing judgment, of a seemingly national cause
Set to living days, a blow of wind with time for a friend?

Prayers are said
Patience be a column of repose, livid even as tears stream
Plied eyes should, a careful need for what was lead
Persuasion of a courtesy, that has become a pet demon...

Pretty invaders, in particularity's cloth, seconds of dress
That are formal, that are fiendish?
To make no mistake about a hateful lip, heard in the God bless
Of the moment partaken, where a silent mention of a wish...

Is a brazen cough, of psyche and dismay...
Taken to reality; for a simpler have, and orchestration
How is a waiting hour, the only way to seek a smile from a stranger?
Answering the question, a priest indicates if hell to pay, is our destination...

Secrets of watches, of the teary night
None to lay, and become a knight of persuasion asking ways
Of a reason beyond silence, the order of dread to a wishful right
Right about now, a marriage has looked, and seen times bell mays

Power of the named
And the cursing of prowess, to understate the privilege
Will a careful lip understand the notion, of a particular shame?
Setting love before justice, is a reality of gestures for life, or a ******?

Would a rose by any other name be as sweet?
Would a rose gifted by another sweep me off of my feet?
Would the fragrant scent make me so softly weak?

Never have I ever been one for flowers,
Their allure held but for a few hours,
A vibrant life for temporary display,
Before they drop all their petals, wilt away.

A perspective from closed eyes open to see,
Finding sincerity in the twelve before me,
Watching their flirtatious shadows dance
As the petals sway to the breezes romance

Studying their intricate details,
Have I never read the story each rose tells?
Sewn into the earth, cared for, tended to,
Their history of love, unfolding in bloom
Like books unfurling pages, one by one
Each petal a testament to the tenderest love

I imagine his eyes, the warmth of his heart
For a moment their stories and my own were of one part.
Gifted with the purest intentions, a hopeful beginning
From those hands seeking love, never-ending

So would a rose by any other name be as sweet?
If from the hands of the one who gifted them to me.