My Rose


Thorny branches

waving like bare arms,

the climbing rose demands my devotion.

I go to her

dressed for battle.

Ours is not an easy union.

She scorns my efforts

to limit her transgressions.

I grow impatient

with her prickly temperament.

Every spring I threaten to abandon her.

She retaliates

with a blush of fragrant pink blossoms,

tender and chaste as a first kiss.