An Ode to Roses
By Petra Prensky
There is an abandoned rose bush on the land.
It is overgrown by Tahitian Spinach.
The tree, which shaded it, got cut down.
Logs fell on its branches, they stayed there.
Yet the rose bush sent out new shoots.
And after years produced the first rose.
My husband found it and put it in a vase on my dresser.
It was red with jagged edges, its fragrance sweet and gentle.
I enjoyed it for a week, before it left my room.
Yesterday, my husband cut a second rose for me.
The Chinese rose beetles ate holes in its leaves,
I close my eyes, inhale its scent; it is beautiful to me.
Thank you rose bush for living and blossoming.
Those two red roses touched me through their unexpected presence.
Their existence surprised, inspired and moved me.
They are real roses: jagged, wild and smelling deliciously.