My Rose
It is dim outside
And there is a
Cool crisp feel to the air
I sit back in my
Welcoming wool sweater
I can smell the thick white
Soft smoke from my pipe
It is soothing
The cool wind across my face
And hair is refreshing
As it compliments
The warmth of my sweater
For im at ease
But nothing is beautiful
As this rose
I can hear the ice breaking
Beneath me as the blades of my skates
Cut through with ever stride
It is like a beating of a war drum
That strikes fear in the enemy
And reasures the power of my charge
The air is frozen as i feel it
Cut across my face
As i do the men who try and stop me
The weight of the puck on my battered stick
Gives me the rush
As i know im the prey
And i know i invite a battle
For this i carry
For i am a man
But nothing is as beautiful as this rose
The books that teach me
The art that catches me
The hardships that grow me
The words that i write reveal me
The laughter that makes me
But nothing is as beautiful as this rose
This rose i had blinked and it bloomed
What i had before then i could not beleive
