Thursday, August 7, 2014


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

No thorns

1 comment:

  1. That's beautiful! I love the comparison between the grandad and his roses.