I had but one rose

The only one I suppose

That I’d ever want to have.

When she first emerged

From her bud

A flood of beauty

Swept me off my feet.

What a thrill

But how to fill

Her vanity?

Fuss I did

I fussed all day

To make her stay.

I grew tired

Of her constant need

And yet I feed

On her radiance

On her fragrance

I should’ve run

Until I did.

But before I left

I saw her bereft

Of her thorns

And she said

With gentle sweetness

That my weakness

Was hers as well.

Many worlds

May unfold

But she was

And always will be

My only rose.

© 2018 Anj CP

*I’ve always been a fan of The Little Prince. I wanted to capture in this poem the complicated love story he had with his rose.

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