Three Red Roses
Three red roses...for an untold love,
whose nectar and pulp the butterfly sips
to sustain its flight, until night time comes,
when they offer rest, on their velvety palms;
three red roses, on whose delicate lips
my tears have settled while I picked them this morn,
like lace of pearls strung for your satin skin,
tokens of such unconfessed love, forlorn;
three red roses, petal...after petal,
sear and wither, dry up to their cores,
of whose sharp thorns have left so much pain
on my papery palm, my blood restores
the red of their petals, and so withal,
the fleeting scent of my unexpressed love.
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.