Groomed by Knife
I am to be cut by day, groomed by knife,
my pain to be vased away
Or, possibly held in admiration,
if luck is in display;
The shadow of my petal
holds tight before first bloom
While vetted by the masters a rose within the room.
My fragrance, will they like
Or pen of me in dress?
Will my thorns be obnoxious?
Or, by sharpness to them impress?
I am to be painted upon a canvas
for everyone to view,
The shadow of the artist the rose's wants drew;
I am poetic prose to be interpreted how you please,
You are the critic, and words, Expression's sea.
[This message has been edited by miscellanea (05-18-2017 11:24 AM).]