~ Gibbons Ruark (b. 1941)
Lately I think of my love for you and the rose
Growing into the house, springing up from under the eaves
And spiraling upward to pierce the chink in the corner
Where the walls come together to keep out everything,
Weather, Mongrel dogs, and the rose coming on like a thief.
But I mean to let it grow forever if it wants to,
For lately I think of my love for you and the rose invading the darkness,
And I long never to learn the difference.