Picking The Roses Poem by mike ruthenbeck

And late at night, when you're sitting alone
Wake dreaming of the loves' you've relinquished
Cyclones of failure you've now quite outgrown
Flames of urges your heart has extinguished
Think on the cynical building of walls
Reflect on living up in a tower
Refrain from boarding against a fresh squall
Remember to smell each passing flower
But Hark! Not to pick! Why kill what’s held dear?
Or once again the cycle commences
Although opinions will seem quite sincere
You know the flower has no defenses
In time you may find its beauty absurd
and walk from the wilt, yourself undeterred