Saturday, 23 July 2016

Red Rose

The fine velvet texture of a rose,
lifted out of a bucket of water
A little cold, yet beautiful

You smell the aroma that promises romance,
Reminding you of the boy who bought you dozens of roses
Not because there was an occasion,
but simply because he wanted to see you smile
He knew that roses brought warmth to your heart
Made you look at the beauty of life
The wonders of creation.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I want to make you happy,
Will a rose do too?

Whether blue, red or white
They still paint pictures of possibilities
of romances laid out on a sheet
Staining it with passion
Our passion
That, that echoes between us
Audible enough to decipher
Yet, a low murmur of moans

Ever wondered why moans of pleasure escape your throat?
Involuntarily,
Before you can formulate the thought of pleasure
It escapes you. And the here, the now,
Is all that matters.

Such is the effect of a rose
A rose, lifted out water
Because their petals no longer become -
He loves me, He loves me not.

They simply are,
a moments pleasure.
a moments moan.

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