Roses
B
Barry Middleton
0
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the autumn is not a season of roses
the spring is far way
the colors of the fall are beautiful
but they are not like roses
though I could have a hot house rose
I prefer the wild and rambling
there is something about the rose
the red of passion the white of innocence
a rose is the sweet perfume of love
and the thorn concealed by leaf
despite its intoxicating audacity
I reach out to the rose
despite the toxic painful thorn
I yet await the spring and roses
I will endure this season of burgundy
and earth tones of the coming cold
I will endure the blanketed winter night
till roses come again to flaunt their light
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