Red Roses

You always left me red roses...

a single one, 

lying by a steaming cup

of warm love's morning brew;

blood red,

petals tightly closed around a single point

of deep emotion.

You always left me red roses...

four or five,

sticking out above the curling paws

of red or white stuffed bears;

blood red,

petals partly opened to permit some light

to touch the soul.

You always left me red roses...

eleven or a dozen,

plumped up on heart-shaped pillows

or against white satin sheets;

blood red,

petals fully opened to receive and give

of passion's heat.

You always left me 

red roses...

Copyright © 2011 by Teri K D Bannerman