the rose

like a bee to nectar you rush
through the garden, heading
directly to the biggest red rose
in your path the tulip, vibrant and strong
in your haste for the beautiful rose,
you brush against the tulip, obliviously
knocking the fragrant petals to the ground
you grab for the perfect rose and curse
to yourself as the barbs from the stem
cut into your ungloved hand
as you wipe the blood, from the vicious
tear in your skin on your pants, you look down
at the dirt and on the tulip
now crushed under your boots


Poetry by M.J.B. is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.