Only the rose

You know there’s that little place in the inner wrist

where it’s so soft and tender?

Where I need your touch;

Where I touch you

Wrist to wrist,no-one will notice;

But we notice,

I feel your pulse beating,

Or is it mine?

Take the rose,

Take the rose for your table.

And when you see it

Remember,

Remember everything

What we said,

What we never said but implied,

And only the rose will listen

As you sing your song

The rose will be there

In the heart’s garden

Dreaming,

Dreaming us back into being.

As we fade gently away

With evening time.

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About Kate Thwaite

I love writing , conversation, art, wild flowers, music and air.And books
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