This rose was wrapped in
the warm night of a college city
filled with Saturday club-goers.
A Banana Republic Sundae dripped
hot fudge on the white tissue paper
and the ribbon was retied into a bow
several times.
This rose is a triplet,
bought with a hope and desperation.
There’s a pang deep in its thorns.
It doesn’t know where it stands yet,
only that either way there is
going to be a change in its life.
This rose stayed up late,
dancing the mambo and
drinking a Shirley Temple.
Forgetting the impending change,
but feeling it all the time.
This rose was a gift.