Back to a Rose

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  • Love
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  • Nature

    Back to a Rose

    My lips and secret garden are full, and shamelessly open and wanting of your attentions.

    They bloom at your touch, like a pink rose that is moistened and nourished by a soft and tender rain.

    It gives more deeply of its scent and blushes with every passing moment it spends in the sun’s warmth.

    Petals open as if in preparation to receive rain’s first wet kiss.

    It yields it’s depths to be enjoyed in a sweet satisfaction fo the senses.

    You long to bury yourself within it, and greedily drink it in and become intoxicated and yet you can never be completely filled.

    For you will always be drawn by and come back to… an open rose.


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    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    rg’s Poems (4)

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