Grandad

For Honeybee 1

Grandad grew roses

Peach, yellow, red

And one bush,

The child bush,

We called it,

Of pink buds,

Pale in early morning light.

It was our favorite because it

Didn’t have thorns.

They say love is a rose-

Sweet and beautiful

But fierce

If that is true, then these roses

Were Grandad

All scent and petal silk

Blooming

No thorns