Roses

With weary feet, and swollen joints
up hills we trod to compass points.
Livid, lavish, lightning strikes,
Ignite, retreat, light up dark skies
So lightning with foreboding tones,
leaves dark welts across my eyes.
Fingers stuck in leaky dikes
the duty bound by hapless hikes.
Such hearts who carried heavy stones
they knew the sounds of empty homes
Knew dogs who’d lost their juicy bones,
Desperate digging, begging, blind.
Or scoops that fell off ice cream cones
Or mansion ghosts’ forgotten moans.
Echo chambers, memory minds,
Tragedies that befall mankind,
Painful losses, ties that bind.
The rocky barren desert roads
Of blistered feet and wicked minds
Of monstrous men with warty toads.

Painful is the path I chose,
Where walking paths must leave the rose.
My life embraced that magic world,
And clouds of crazy faeries curled,
That time the rose petals first unfurl’d,
And heaven burst with magic sounds,
Of angels walking hallowed grounds,
Enchanted doors we stumbling found,
Sweet spirits born to which we’re bound.

By warm light and fertile earth, she grows.
By wandering winds where petals blow.
And walking, those reap hope who find,
what by the path the beauty sows
The fleeting flower left behind
Magic moments, blinks of eyes
Leave the flower where she grows
So others see the blooming rose