carmine |
and he thinks |
he would know her now: |
rose-petal sweet, |
the passion of crimson, |
she daunts in devouring the sun, |
proud climb |
from the ground to the light, |
tenacity's bloom; |
his fingers |
caressing her thorns |
the pain as she cuts |
the welcome price |
for what he has touched. |
© Jon Bohrn (1999) |
The Flowers: The Rose, Alphonse Mucha 1898 |