Poem: Rose

Disclaimer: I am more of a writer than a poet. But I don’t mind this one.

A single rose

Dressed in a crimson blouse

Stood in a vial of water, drinking

Getting drunk

As two strangers sip on apple wine

Exchanging glances

sharing a meal

tension in the air

The rose sensed it

It wasn’t anger

Or meloncholy

It was mutual infatuation

A curiosity that they shared over

A beautifully dressed rose.