My Rose Poem by Christopher Thor Britt

My rose, though growing in a garden not my own, is mine all the same

Do not my eyes smile at her beauty and lose themselves in her scent?

Do not my fingers tremble with anticipation just to touch her silky skin?

While there may be pain when I hold her in my strong embrace

It compares not to the loss I feel when at last her I release

All the world may know her beauty and pen such odes to last in infamy

Yet words alone will never do poetic justice to her loveliness

This rose grows ever in my heart for it is, and will e’er remain her own