He is my Rose

He is my Rose

for Tom

He is my hungry rose,
budding with hope,
then blossoming with love,
ever
growing
more beautiful,
each sunny honey sweet day
and yet-

sometimes he withers, because
of a dry world that makes him so thirsty.

Yet I try to pour out all the
elixir of life
that i have to sustain him
for at least another day
till the time comes when I can pick him
and hold him in my delicate hands
to caress and smell the scent of this rose
that has awaited me in the snow.

He is my rose, as sweet as any created
because humans are meant for sorrow, not roses.