(She said we should have no expectations.)
This rose, in a garden full of roses
Not yet in its’ bloom complete
Beautiful and imperfect
With edges frayed and lightly burned by the sun and by the rain
Tilts toward the sun and
Drinks the raindrops.
(I promised her that I had no expectations.)
There are no truths in this world but pain and beauty
Our hearts link the two
And call it love
With edges frayed and lightly burned by hope and by desire
What would I expect
But to watch the rose unfold.