that one bud of wild blue rose <br />i hide under the broken corner slab <br />granite black cold slab <br />it will not show, no smell, no roots it will take <br />under impersonal hard granite slab <br />but it, a soft blue bud wild, had shoved the heavy stone <br />cracked other ones to turn itself in a <br /> wild blue bush of roses <br />puzzling me unseen unheared alone sitting beside it <br />thinking ways to prune it, or to let it be <br />waiting, for the call coming <br />once a year, any time of the year....<br /><br />trinity aana<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/black-granite-blue-bud/
