First Rose ~

a

A heart of youthful year was yearning, 

Crying out the pain; the burning 

Tears would e’er remain until

An answer from the man would see them die.

A sympathetic mirror blessed her – 

Softened up the curves, caressed her

Skin to help regain a calm –

Assuage a heaving breast and blushing eye.

And through a struggling mind, a chiming: 

Someone at the door; the timing

Perfect and exquisite in the

Reconciliation of her woes.

She took the oak to make the parting, 

‘Here! ’ a presentation startling.

Drawing deep through radiant lips, she

Kissed her very dream: a crimson rose..