I wish
I were like
my neighbors roses.
Dappled by the sunrise
in hues of
pink, orange, yellow
and red.
Blooming beautifully,
for everyone to see.
Bright, proud,
and adored by all.
I am too grey
and masculine
in my ways.
I am
more like
the Morning Glory.
Rich yet dark.
Marvelous in its
morning glory
but
dead at night.
I visit
my neighbors roses
everyday.
To breathe in
their fragrance.
To be intoxicated
by the taste .
To be high on their vibrance
like it might
rub off
on me.
Today
I walked past
the roses
and there was
no smell.
Almost as if
they had gone stale.
As if
they were no longer
young maidens
but old hags.
Had they turned into me?
A non beautiful
non luscious
piece of shrubbery?
But then,
my neighbor
drove past me
and waved
and smiled.
And with that
I was transformed
into the rose.
Bright
proud
and adored by all.
I were like
my neighbors roses.
Dappled by the sunrise
in hues of
pink, orange, yellow
and red.
Blooming beautifully,
for everyone to see.
Bright, proud,
and adored by all.
I am too grey
and masculine
in my ways.
I am
more like
the Morning Glory.
Rich yet dark.
Marvelous in its
morning glory
but
dead at night.
I visit
my neighbors roses
everyday.
To breathe in
their fragrance.
To be intoxicated
by the taste .
To be high on their vibrance
like it might
rub off
on me.
Today
I walked past
the roses
and there was
no smell.
Almost as if
they had gone stale.
As if
they were no longer
young maidens
but old hags.
Had they turned into me?
A non beautiful
non luscious
piece of shrubbery?
But then,
my neighbor
drove past me
and waved
and smiled.
And with that
I was transformed
into the rose.
Bright
proud
and adored by all.
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