AGAIN

The path is lined with roses

like the ones we planted in our heart:

petals of crimson velvet and blushing silk,

scent of Paradise and thorny stems.

Life was then so tender

and we were both so raw!

Our blossoming skin

could not weather the tempest

and the cuts in our hands

didn’t know how to heal.

Oh how barren the garden!

How desolate the soul

wandering Northless through sorrow

until the effulgent buds lined new pathways

again.

Aramaki rose garden, Japan