A Rose in Bloom, Another in Blood

A Rose in Bloom, Another in Blood


I hold in my heart, from the world apart,
A flower of love that blossoms like art.
Each petal unique, driven to grow
By my true love’s unmet, unseen glow.
That still I search for,
Without knowing why.

In my hand is a flower, sharing only the other’s name,
This rose grows on my fear, it thrives on my pain.
Ever I hide it with increasing shame,
Yet it grows so quickly, my effort’s in vain.

Would that I had a meadow, to frolic, be free,
All I have are twin roses waging war about me.

The black rose in my palm fights to murder my calm
While the red in my soul holds a far kinder goal.
Red claims it was once white, with ardor so bright,
But turned its coat when it saw the true light.
That heart alone decides what is right.

The rose in blood, in the palm of my hand
Could make my material life to be grand.
The rose in bloom that I hold in my heart,
However, is something with which I will no longer part.

A rose in bloom, it’ll no longer falter or fail,
Another in blood, through virtue, will one day grow pale.