In the rough

It’s our perverted human nature

Uncontrolled, unlearned part in us

Wreaking havoc; a thirst to discover

We have convoluted our purpose

 

Undoubtedly she is one of those rare finds

Existing in a natural beauty; exemplified

Much the way life itself was once designed

 

Her: an art piece in fluent movement

That of a wild rose that has fought

Elements of nature, in dark doubt

Nakedly exposed; her tender heart

Tinder is her whole environment

Clinging to a life line for existence

Soothed gently by a moon’s night shade

At times unprotected in unwanted rain

Cold lonely nights; sleeted by a frost

Then abandoned to an unrelenting sun

She beholds a strength- of all her own

Blooms on mere breezes of internal hope

 

Poets crave to describe her silky color

Artistically reliving her unique curvatures

Bathe raw in droplets; her aromatic scent

In vivid dreams they cling to her secretly

Only to bleed on her thorns ecstatically

Making love to her on ink lined whispers

Even now, I write about her metaphorically

 

I’m her admirer, a ghostly lover, learnt

She remains divinely perfect…left unmolested

 

Poet of the Light © 2018

 

4 thoughts on “In the rough

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