Shapely and curvaceous lips,
Protruding at intervals to each other,
Circling, entranced, around it's nectar eclipsed,
They protect from an unwanted interloper.
All gazes it easily captures,
Creating a lingering desire, a lust, for it instills cupidity,
In all those who deem themselves suitors,
And in those who anguish at their abject inferiority.
It's stem finds honor in holding it's majesty,
The head of state, whose presence commands attention,
Demands respect, at all times, but by jealousy,
Does not receive appreciation.
But two faults this beauty owes,
To it's thorns, to it's egotistical pose.
Ciaran Quirke
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/roses-ii/
