|She bleeds red roses, my darling love|
when cut to the quick by knife-edged words.
Or spews forth petal invectives-
her comments, fragrant swords.
She leaves a rose bud trail behind
when spirits dance on high
and petals ride the swirling winds
whence she has wandered by.
She weaves a crimson coverlet
to blanket us at night.
Life-giving liquids surround
us: rose petal delight.
My sweet love, my darling Rose
pricked by a thorn from enchanted vine
shall forever scatter petals
but until forever, she is mine.