beauty

The garden turns brown too quickly
because of my neglect
the plants are withering
one rose remains, a tough bad boy

It is small in stature, growing along the parkway
absolutely ignored, occasionally stepped upon,
it produces flame colored blossoms
bigger than the plant itself, with a rich erotic scent
a wild flower amongst scattered weeds

this rose brings me smiles deep in my heart
I am grateful that it does not need my tending,
that beauty can survive on its own,
and that dense thorns keep me from picking the blossoms