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.
—ACF