Red Lipped Garden #DVersepoets #Quadrille

Despite the hosing,
stems still cling to their cobwebs.
Strands draped between limbs,
threads quivering in a threat to untangle.
Roses grow thirsty again in a moment,
stripped out of their petals
heat caught up on their thorns.
A lessening, in want of more.

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Roses
The Rosebush outside my kitchen window. 

Among Roses

We walked among roses and he spoke of Paris,

of Florence and Venice,

of worlds we would travel.

We walked among roses

until thorns turned to claws

and flowers were beautiful no more.

 

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