By Dave Cias Nicron@aol.com
Date: 9 August 2000
Rose Garden
Rose Garden
In winter, vines of grey
Intertwine, thorns impaling
Digging into its own flesh
The garden is ugly in chill
In spring, green climbs
Through the pained embrace
And buds along its length
Red velvet blossoms
Along the cords of thorn.
Summer dries the bloom
And red turns browned and
Black, a clot of flower on
A dying stem
Autumn storms in, and
In its violence renews
The life, before the petals
fall away to reveal the scarred skin beneath,
touched by thorns
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