Who made you, rose?
She must have known you would distract me,
Beguile me, tempt, seduce me.
Who formed this growing bud,
Shy foretaste of delights to come?
Your perfect flower invites me, draws me in
To breathe the sweet scent deep within you,
Feel your velvet softness on my lips.
Rose, who brought you here
To change forever this wild garden?
And just how could it be
That she knows me so well?
© June 2009
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