The Ochre Rose

The rose bud in my garden,
was of a beautiful Ochre.
It was singular and laden,
a cauldron of joy,
A shimmering light of hope.

My eye, observant and admiring,
kept note of it, as each day,
slowly passed by.
I nurtured it, and the mire that lay,
to see it smile.

One morn, I saw the bud,
had bloomed to its full display,
a youthful vigour and exuberance.

I thought let me pluck and
place it in a vase,
lest it dries and withers away.

As i pinched the stem,
my hand, I withdrew crying in pain,
and remorse, looking at
the thorn that had pierced the flesh,
and the exotic Ochre rose.

- Tony Dass