The First Rugosa Rose
The first Rugosa Rose blossomed today.
Its fuchsia petals come to beckon me;
I have been waiting, watching carefully
To see the bud, now flower to display.
Press my nose to the center and breathe in,
Inhaling, as a choking person will,
‘Til finally, I breathe deep and am still,
Enveloped, wrapped in fragrance on my skin.
In spring I wait. Then roses last a day,
Reminding me, the sprint of passing time.
For though its striking perfume is sublime,
The rose has come and now will go away.
But oh! That sight, that sweet scent on the breeze
Is Goddess-like, that rose beneath the trees.