A

Rose
at ninety stems thorns leaves flowers
seeds
what you believe, to be ninety, is far out
but nineteen senses sure but should we
become old enough to see our rising
raising
nine decades cascades of falls trips relationship still
flowing
flowering of divining the labyrinth
life
senses assured

arose
seeing means shown peeks chosen crescendos
to bloom
petals past fast tracks at twenty thirty forty but lasting
flowering tops
to be thought out nineteen to ninety is a labyrinthine
coming out

The coveted cup runneth but rarely over…
flows seconds minutes hours years sprint middle distance marathon
where has it gone know the true rose is a living bloom
a fragrance of grace no race color or need

The heart of the rose knows it’s never
over
just overflowing love and compassion and never ending
loving thoughts
are the budding that gives rise to
a rose

10/19/15