ROSE

 

My love is like

a crimson rose

and no one knows

from whence it came

 

nor where it goes -

a rose in winter

solid as Frankenstein's

monster, a frozen thing

 

that spent

its lifetime hiding

like a garage spider.

I didn't chide her

 

the garage spider,

but now the rose has

said hooray - come out

to play, has seen

 

its own reflection

in the mirror, yes

the sudden mirror

of your eyes.

 

From Composting for All (2017)