A Boy With A Dozen Red Roses

Their scent filled my breath with wonder,

the day I held a dozen red roses in my hands.

My eyes closed, lips smiled as I held them high to my face.

Nothing has ever been more fragrant, since I breathed in their beauty.

A boy with a dozen red roses in his hands.

I have seen beauty to make a man stop

and ponder the artful ways of nature.

Watched whales breach, the mother play with her cub

and listened to their song.

Smelled the alluring curve of a woman's slender neck

and felt aroused by the taste of her.

But nothing has seemed so wonderful as that day

I held a dozen red roses in my hands.

Their bloom is so full and wholesome, their petals delicate yet strong.

like a full bodied Spanish dancer, her skirts flowing in layers,

her beauty beguiling all who watch her body move.

But to a boy, the rose is a mother's beauty,

a fragrance that is comfort and joy.

It is nature's bounty, and abundance

that only seems natural to one so young.

That boy with a dozen red roses.