A Subtleness That Fits Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Who am I to say...
A displayed rose,
Is not conceited!

With a slow blooming,
Showing to reveal...
Its appeal is very exquisite.

There is a subtleness that fits,
An elusive delicateness...
One either bends down to it,
Or select it to pick...
To sniff unresisting.

To say that a rose,
By another name chosen...
Would still be that rose?
That I do not know.

Although a rose conceited or not,
Leaves a fragrance...
Not easily forgotten.
By a nose left impressed.