There is a rose
It grows upon a garden wall
Deep bloodied crimson
In its fulgent glow.
 
thou art flesh
 
Its thorns are thick
And bury deep
Their jagged means
Of blood to blood.
 
thou art flesh
 
Its beauty aches
For warmth and touch
Leaf upon leaf
Rimmed by the morning sun.
 
thou art flesh
 
Dipped in golden showers
Exhilaration blooms
Engorged in the bud of desire
Then tempered by its broken fire.
 
O Rose thou art flesh
 
Such energy
Consumes its own creative power
In the slash of colour - that exhausted
Streams its earthly love across the garden wall.
 
O Rose
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