One persistently pesky pink-red rose,
continues radiant at autumn's close.
Her siblings have retired, all long past red;
just one pink-red rose, one proudly raised head,
One persnickity part-Labrador pup,
starry-eyed tumble of overflowed cup.
Begs to run free, discover better ways,
oh, please don't make me wear the leash today!
One mystical Motown sense of rhythm,
and one pink-red rose in motion with them.
Its fragrance lingers and clings forever,
through one slow-float sequence dreamed together.
One perfectly balanced book of ledger;
mixed ingredients in perfect measure
Secure as a tightly laced running shoe,
oh so irreplaceable, pink red You.
'Voice of One' @ Jerry Buckley
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem