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

busily he picks the thorns

from his roses last days

pricks a finger

in the separating day

peeling away

believing it to be

the petal bleeding

from the rose's

crying eye

JP Pestana October 9, 2016

revision 1