It Stands

By Midnight Rose 1989

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In the corner of an over-crowded office,
On a cluttered desk 
In the midst of leaning stacks of files,
Beside a ringing telephone,
Near a flipping Rolodex,
Overlooking an open law book
Beneath the wrappings of a half-eaten sandwich,
Next to a solidifying cup of untouched "office sludge,"
It stands-- in proud defiance.

In a slender vessel of crystal,
Supping of life’s precious wine,
Arched skyward on a stem of cautioning thorns,
Leaves of green curling toward the light,
Petals shaming the color of love’s soft lips,
It stands-- a touch of beauty.

Handpicked by true love’s choice,
Wrapped with a promising kiss, 
Delivered into the care of a weathered gentleman,
Tucked in the sunshine browser of a sidewalk stand,
Passed to a blushing beauty,
A warm smile blesses the beloved placement,
It stands--a symbol of a secret love.

A single red rose.