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Wild Rose

Last updated on May 29, 2023

Wild Rose

roses

for as far

as the eye

can see

they grow

in places

remote

as such

off the path

or down the barrel

in seasons

dew and dust

where no tourists

claim to touch

for there’s palatial plenty

as such

cultivated and temperate

in hot houses

they bloom

on time

already pressed

kissed for the occasion

their fate sealed in the seed

the bouquet of the day

whether it be

a promise

a note

a sonnet

a vow

an apology

or a parting

of ways

the bygone day

roses seem to say

what we couldn’t say

their petals float

in backyard puddles

and Parisian canals

they serve as confetti

in the air

and condolence

on the ground

symbolizing something

quite dear

strength and beauty

hard pressed

between the pages

of joy and pain

but the wild ones

grow

for neither

pain nor joy

they bloom

without want

of plan

or need

of purpose

they dress no table

no gown

no coffin

no door

no knee

no aisle

no holiday

no parade

no prom

no ballet

no some

thing

to say

they just are

as they are

without expectation

or explanation

worry or want

there is no

pre-paid order

backlogs

or quotas to fill

no gardens to gaze

or nurseries to tend

or castles to vase

or derby to race

or manicured lawns

or runways in Milan

a wild rose

grows

as it is

for no particular reason

on no particular day

of the week

or the month

or the year

or the season

it just is

as it were

as it was

as it will

be

it just is

TL

Published inPoetry