Red
flushed and sprinkled
with drops of dew
I sit amidst the others
waiting
at the corner of the room
plucking all the thorns
that would otherwise have scarred my petals
I must be careful
that they not brush his fingers
I will stay clean and fresh
defy death for a moment
That moment
when he would gaze upon me… walk up to me… touch me… take me…
breathe my essence into his being… smile… adore me… love me, choose
me… carry me close to his heart
"I’ll take this one" he will say
as he reaches into his wallet
For my love I’d be a perfect rose
The rose that he gives to the woman he loves
I would rather be roses for my love
than be nothing to him at all

(I had this crazy notion once that I'd self-sacrifice myself and become a rose--all this came to me when i was going through a heartbreak, for the one I love, just to taste that moment when he'd choose me again, even if he gave it/me to his next love...)

© 2007 by Bernice Angoh