Oh gardener, if ye chose thee,
thou shall not water other flowers.
For thy rose will always see
and it will compare itself to others.
Your eyes shall always be on it.
Thy love must only be for that rose.
For if you do otherwise, it'll fell the hate
and its heart, sadly, will be closed.
For the rose you've chosen is rare.
It is dauntless, gorgeous and versatile.
What you have to give is care
only for that jealous rose inside the well.
YOU ARE READING
Whisper of Words
PoetryIf you can't hear it out loud and your voice couldn't make a sound, listen to the whisper of words. A collection of poems
