The Rose

stuck in autumn's drumming sun
strongly drawn to the coward's
awkward song
and dance
he dances
dances the clowning
dance for no one
but one or
the other

the silliness of daffodils still
and whippoorwills still willing
playfully sticks in his head
as he busily picks the thorns
from his roses last days

pricks a finger
in a day separating
peeling away
achingly believing it to be
the petal bleeding
from the rose's
crying eye

JP Pestana October 10, 2016