This was all but wasted trimming,
wasted affection on the blooming.

This garden was allotted to another
man far away, he never stepped here!

Did he know a thing about roses?
he ain't takin' what he possesses!

And how the petals fall in his arms,
a thing beyond my imaginations!

As if I was hired in my own garden,
to plant in my own breast a thorn!

Look! how he trims without gloves,
and with the scent he familiarizes.

I resented this forced apprentice,
but he's made the garden more nice.

he holds the rose, and no hurt,
as if her thorns don't hurt!

That beats my understandin',
though to his handlin' the garden

in good "gloves"
lies. I watch from the bleachers.

#love
#lostlove
#romance
#rose
#garden
#hate








© Michael WRITTER