A Gift

A Gift

I left a gift for my pink rose last night,
Hidden beneath covers to be undone,
And there I wait, to catch and share delight’s
Discovery, as time would tick to none.
Why was it that she would ignore my love?
My heart was close, was hers so very far?
Why when I looked behind, and looked above,
Was I lonely beneath the evening stars?
I’d give more, though no more I have to give.
If desire for warmth I did assume,
Unjust advance I pressed do be forgive,
As pulse thundered in this, an empty room.
While lost inside myself, I did not see,
My rose then appear, with a gift for me.

Christopher Harris