In the rose garden

I saw you in the rose garden. Last summer, when the roses were at their peak – luscious reds, whites, pinks and peach parading against verdant foliage.

You, however, put me in mind of the tightly furled buds, keeping their beauty shyly hidden, biding their time, waited to be coaxed into brilliant bloom.

I watched as the young man courted yo with words I couldn’t hear but which made you blush, and I ached to protect you, to send the wordy beau slinking away like a scolded puppy, and ...