The Oohs And Oh's... Of A Winter Rose Poem by Mark Heathcote

Shyly, the distilled November— light!
Exudes around; the blushing rose.
Till then her beauty is unduly, contrite!
Her virginal warmth; tingles, oohs,
And ohs…Ohs and Oohs …Oohs and ohs…

She's more haunting than anybody, knows?
She ends each season unrequited.
In her pensive, star-like milky throes…
That mercy blood makes hearts ignite.
So much so, her leafless, invite.

Trembles… inside with …Oohs
And ohs…Ohs and Oohs …Oohs and OH's…
Leaves like golden; Leaflets frostbite-
Top-another has no partite.
That my soul would; disperse that lovely rite!

From the, oohs,
And ohs…Ohs and Oohs …Oohs and ohs…
Not even the thorny crown; does impose
Upon; the vision of her, clothes.
Such clear translucent splendour, oohs,
And ohs…Ohs and Oohs …Oohs and ohs…
…Here's my ode to a white winter rose.