Roses Are The Color

An acrostic poem for Stormy Lady's contest

Rose is the color of his heart,
Over the trellis, bleeding white and crimson red.
Somehow, his baby voice whimpers, "Never will we part."
Even when our ragged spirits might be dead.
Soon Eden's Garden will prove the scope of our decaying dreams.

Are the good fairies bathing in the rain?
Running through the deep destinies of our lives?
Even as his smile hides the truth of a refrain?

The peppermint valentines fly from Cupid's arrow,
His recent note spilling like a cup of wine from Paradise
Even when the winter's sublime freeze finds us with harrow.

Cover the earth without a thread of disgrace, my love.
Only he gives me pieces of memories that move my cloudy soul.
Looking as though the good man he is holds no deceit, my love.
Out of a blundering storm, he has cured my blind howl,
Reaching for his knitted cap as his hands turn cold from a deep freeze.


Stormy Lady's Newsletter and Contest, Honorable Mention, 2008