
I should have been named Rose,
for I am full of thorns.
Those who draw too near,
or dare to touch too readily
may bleed, and dance uneasily.
I turn to the sun in passion’s grace.
I welcome any rains that come.
I am unafraid of blowing winds.
I dodge the hail dumped by storms.
I scent the garden in sweet surrender.
I allow the strong of heart to pluck my blooms.
I await thoughtful gardeners who seek my embrace.
I should have been named Rose.