Their scent reminds me of home,
Soft, effortless, comforting and rousing,
Lots and lots of colour,
lots and lots of rose scented roses.
Truly mine was a bed of roses,
Truly mine in petal and thorn,
Buds and leaves were never the highlight,
Though unseen the root had time to reach deep.
If only I could grab them all,
Hold them tightly to my bossom,
But they would wither and die,
They are not to be carried away, but are to be returned to.
If I had a petal,
For every thorn,
I would have an eden,
Resembling what I see now.
Along with blight,
The insect and worms,
Dirt and mud,
There is no place that is quite as real yet so surreal,
Looking back now the scent reminds me of home
Soft, effortless, comforting and rousing,
Lots and lots of colour,
lots and lots of rose scented roses.
Amare Poeta
Outside my mind 