Oceans and roses are different
Yet in my mind’s eye I keep seeing
An ocean of roses
The flowers so tight cheek to cheek
I can see no thorns
The surface undulates like the
slack water between tides
Then they start to follow a current
I do not like to think that someone
Has plucked the roses
And thrown them out to wither
Rather I hope they are still on the
Mother bush each nurturing a new bud
To take its place
I have seen seas of lavender
Moving likes waves in the wind
But I would like to see an ocean of roses.
Perhaps tonight when I dream