The Rose Poem

The rose is the symbol of love.
So no wonder it never grows in my garden
Without tendrils of bindweed squeezing it's throat
Winding tighter and tighter until the leaves harden
And die.

The rose is the symbol of love.
So no surprise that it's studded with many a thorn
That leave ruby beads on my skin
So when I attempt to obtain a flower untorn
I bleed.

The rose is the symbol of love.
Shocking then that I continue to water my plant
For despite its bitter bite and endless cycle of loss
To give up on its sweet fragrance and lovely color, I can't
So think.

The rose is the symbol of love.
So find a flower - soft and undying - that waters you back
Settle not for crazed, hurtful weeds; or even a blossom you feel like you need
Yearn for love that turns petals glossy and bright without attack
You are more than just any rose.