The Rose May Blush

By Samuel McConochie

A rose may blush before it wilts—

Its beauty is better as it tilts...

Towards an end it understands:

To let it all go and be less bland.

So age in mirrors and cut your stems,

Worry less of me and less of them,

For more will grow and in their place,

But love this beauty you see now faced.

The bush cut back is one to tend;

The rose of love is one you send;

But what you’ve cut is now to go;

The present a gift, the ebb and flow.

Press them in paper to squeeze their preserve—

Between old trees you hold memories to serve;

Like photos or words you’re here in now;

But the feeling of beauty is just one to wow.

Don’t question your sense it’s conscience to feel;

Hold to and move forward, forgiveness helps heal;

Like petals: Memories drift but the soil remains;

Flowing like water, you’ll grow along grains.

‘What if’ is absurd, not for you to know,

Be like life’s everything and let it all go;

Rely on what is and know it could change—

For destiny looks back but choices arrange.

Know there is no trap just lost in your mind;

A path you don’t see for in it you’re blind;

But heightened with less we grow do we not?

Buried in holes we soar for a lot.

So dig or trim or do what you must;

Be friends, or yourself — have faith in your trust;

For beauty is the eye, it beholds one to grow;

Like tears of a nested parent — before children go.

By Samuel McConochie