Each day I enter my yard,
in view you touch my heart.
I admire your beauty,
but wonder about your true duty.
With your arms reaching out to hug,
your thorns are beginning to bug.

Everytime I get a prick,
it reminds me of your trick.
How is it that you please my eyes,
then give my body painful surprise?
It's time you be trimmed short,
or our love affair will have to abort.

Your roses are beautiful and red,
but it doesn't make up for
the many times I've bleed.
During the summer you blossom bright,
in the winter you hardly make sight.
I'm use to your season,
but at times not your teasing.

G