"R O S E N"

Three golden roses,

Side - by -side,

Are here dying in sunset - hue.

Their blood - red collars

Still circling their pungency,

Outlining their tenuous form.

Their heads yet erect -

As petals unfold aroma's

Testament to their Rosedom! . . .

"In spite of thorns & pruning -

We made it!

Release our fragrance!

And marvel at our stock!"

That's how a rose arrives, in bouquet's scent."