Bloom

Fourteen hundred roses I wish I could leave on your doorstep

Hoping that they might convey what my words cannot

How you have made my heart a garden of possibility and life

Where I once thought only weeds of misfortune would grow

I am blossoming into pink-blush petals of heartfulness

Surrounded by your arms you root me to happiness 

In affectionate words of stone-carved bougainvillea forests

Yet tucked into the crook of your neck I feel myself grow

Into falling flowers that glide on the love-bled air that

Take me to a place of pastel colored flower and bloom

The feeling of your love on sunday mornings in togetherness

On this bed of fourteen hundred roses that I left on your doorstep