#34 Roses

I've always been told,

"Why can't you just stop for a second and smell the roses?

Can't you see how pretty it is?

Feel how soft it's petals are?

How the thorns give pungent imagery about the intertwined nature of beauty and danger?

Just stop and appreciate the rose."

It might just be me,

But I'm far more interested in the bit of graffiti

Etched imprecisely on a tree

Saying SW loves JD

In the slightly damaged branch

In the bit of litter on the ground

In the butterflies dancing with each other

In the oak that stands many meters tall

In the little bit of rope on the strongest accessible branch indicating the absence where a swing used to be

In the pattern of flowers that means nothing at all

I love the sound of a river streaming

I adore the rustling of leaves indicating the hidden life I can't see

I like stopping in a place with long grass indicating no one really stopped here before

I like to stop to try to work out why on earth I've stopped at all

And yes, sometimes, I like to stop to smell the roses.

But the only reason we can stop at all is because the rest of the time we're moving.

We can only stop so many times.

And I have to say, that when I stop

I want it to stop for my own reasons

And find my own beauty in this world.

http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/08/34-roses.html