The Rose Poem by Bryan Taplits

The fragrance of a flower's bloom
no prison can deny,
my feelings tall-which some call love-
are long and also wide.
The heavens now with fragrant plea
beseech, implores, entreats,
the honeyed cry below
the sky smells sweet
as now it seeks.

On Earth below
we now all know
that love grows quick and true,
but first before it grows
must sow the ground
As flowers often do.
And as it grows, the love
then blooms-
It more and never less-
And in the heart or
on the ground
The blooms find sweet
purchase.

Dearest, you may see your honeyed flaws
in mirrors or waters flows,
But I feel none-
Feel but the radiant sun-
And see a thornless red red rose.