ROSES IN THE RAIN

Sun beating down, on a scorched land.
A void of life - rocks, and sand

On the horizon, there does shine.
A cluster of something, affixed to a vine.

The sand is grievous - the path is long.
Snarled webs of wilderness - a need to be strong.

In the glow, of a dim lit night
The luster of a vine, comes into sight.

With trembling hands - reaching to see.
If parts of the vine, belong to me.

Frantic and shaking - it starts to rain.
Life in the desert - unutterable pain.

Grabbing the thorns, of the clinging vine.
I pull it close, to take what’s mine.

I taste the beauty of the blossoming flower.
I hold it gently - for one short hour.

Little by little, I feel the pain.
One by one -- rose petals, tossed to the rain.

Barnum Taylor © 1998