The roses were perfectly sequenced,
single file... like papal swiss guards,
flouncing to the reel of hard wind,
stems in duress bow at their tips,
inducing unfledged efflorescence-
from natures levy on verdant seed,
birthmarked to die limp and stunted.
Fatuous gardener who landscaped this,
must spend too much time on the grapes.
Roses were born to blossom in bunch,
stems entertwined with thorns enabling
space to breathe, yet bonded by root
from seeds of same for complexions sake.
Juxtapoitions were not staged for roses;
such fix is merely vantage for soldiers,
and food lines, drawn lines, two pairs of nines-
quite the stretch from when, where and how
a rose might find fertile comfort.