Rose At 21 Poem by Ray Mather

Ten past eight
That warm September night
In an antiseptic room
Your first tentative cry
Celebrating your entry
Into this world
Blonde-streaked, pink-cheeked
You had to be
Rose
And like the flower
Over time you have grown

Bright and shiny in your early years
Then sprouting those protective thorns
During early teenage
Where tight-budded
You hid your beauty
From the world

Now this late blossoming
To unfold your full face
And finally fit comfortably into
You
Multi-layered
Golden-haired
A history shared
Of highs and lows
This is for you
I love you, Rose






© Ray Mather 2006