your the rose
That’s not on the market or for sale.
More precious
Than a wet rose
Single on a stem
You are caught in the drift.
I’m stunted, with your soul,
You are lifted in the crisp sand
That drives my breath away in the wind.
Can the spice-rose
Drip such acrid fragrance
Hardened in a leaf?
Would you let me get next to you?
To find out that side in you?
Believe, I'm the one to be with.....
