One of my favorite poems from Riding in Boxcars (Snap Screen Press, 2006) is Rose. It is about the beauty that youth and innocence bring to our world.

Most of us become infected with cynicism at too early an age. We suffer the indignities of life that lead us to erect shells around ourselves. It is a joy to see someone or something that has not yet been broken down by the sheer weight of existence.

Rose is an unusual poem. I began it in free verse to reflect the innocence, the emerging beauty of the subject. I use rhyme in the second verse to sing of the soul, the danger of risking love, the giving of part of oneself, and the hope of fulfillment that rests in the waking heart.

And it is about that part of each of us that can inhale the incense of rose and for just an instant, recapture that first golden moment when we felt we were fresh and new and anything was possible.

Glenn K. Currie

Rose

 She emerged shyly,

Slowly shedding wrappings.

Naked. Blushing.

Soft layers opening

To gentle touch.

Beauty begging,

To be inhaled.

Incense from a smoldering fire,

Glowing red.

Red as the budding flower,

First bursting free.

Red as the trickling blood,

From thorns green panoply.

Red as delicate petals,

Strewn on forest floors.

Red as the secret place,

Where love’s sweet rose

Endures.