The Single Rose


Ponderings from Beaufort St – 16th May 2013
He crossed the street
With choc milk in one hand
For breakfast on the run
And in his other he held
A rose
A solitary man
A single rose
To give his one true love
I wonder why he chose that one
Or if the rose had chosen him
It wasn’t red
To say I love you
Or pink to say, thank you
It wasn’t the yellow rose of friendship
Or orange bloom of eagerness
It was a single white rose
Of simplicity and purity
A symbol of innocence
And I wondered if his love was
Such simple, diaphanous devotion
Perhaps he hoped it would be
He wished and yearned that
In the giving of this bud
Love’s pledge and promise
Would innocence and devotion keep
Perhaps he hoped for something else
That I knew nothing of
Yet in the bud carried cross the street
There was a wish, a desire
And I wished for him, his wish

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