My true love planted roses by her bed
Then went away and left them,
So weeds grew there instead.
And I,
Intolerant of her neglected pride,
Resolved to purge the garden
Sprayed on herbicide.
I watched the roses smother
In their space,
Among the dying grasses, dock,
And Queen Anne's Lace;
But then emerged from nature's
Plant of thorn,
A blood red bud began to form;
On new green stem amidst the paling leaf
A resurrection moved my disbelief
To wonder
That its struggle so like mine
Defied its death, refusing to resign.
Now I tend the roses by her bed,
Resolved that not a weed grow there instead.
A kindred spirit in a flower,
Embracing life, defining power