Searching for a speechless mediator,
a lover steals a red rose, with deep roots
in secret alliance by darkness and night,
illuminating the thorns with a flash-light.
Creeping ashamed in the park alleys,
he chooses the smaller of two sins,
rabbit-like loving – always in his mind
the holy book with four-leaf clovers,
pressed as lucky charm bookmarks,
in the belief he could secure his back –
namely the invisible side of the heart
through a simple count, and wash his hands
like a chestnut dropping on the sidewalk,
suddenly washed by melted hailstones.
If the trick with the flower succeeds,
hesitant as the eve, comes forgiveness...
Dan Danila
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rosebud/
