RMC

Suppose a rose were to strike a pose?
Would it want itself looking its best for those
who are charmed by its beauty I suppose
but delicate in the fields they grow.

We are all strands of grass in a field
that supplies beauty and is real
for those who want morning dew on feet feel
does a rose not but the icy-eyed chill.

From cheeks that are red in a gaze,
there is a delicate touch upon my face
from warmth itself I can’t help
thinking of her smile so long is just a phase.

But it is not I am taught
things that make the spring sing
within skin old mine is taut
and from a youthful place her smile brings beautiful things.

Like a child again in secret sin,
hidden away from sight I might
be polite but the crush is upon me again;
I want a confidant and friend tonight.