It’s July, and the world smells like roses
The Sunshine is powdered goal
My gladness can carry you
Don’t you know my sentimentality by now?
Crimson and sensual, likes splashes of blood
I shall end my life in Rose petals
The months you tended me
Your hands grew roses from my body
And I became, someone beautiful
In your expectations of tasting
Sweetness in everything
It’s July, and the world is good near you
Like a woman with untidy hair
The bouquet that was our affection had
Become messy, passionate with a fragrance
For an obsession at the garden
Of growing hidden buds, that might at any moment
Bloom, ready to die, is there anything as
Romantic as roses on a grave?
The point is you can turn my grief into love
You, like the rose are helping me find grace.
Wuji Seshat 
That was fabulous, Wuji, really good.
Thanks Richard.
This one touched my heart. Beautiful!
Thank you Helen, what touched you about it if I may ask?
This is the type of question that freaks me out because I don’t know if I got out of it what you intended, but maybe that’s the wonderful thing about poetry, or writing even. My favorite line: “Your hands grew roses from my body”. Which to me meant that sometimes we can’t see beauty but others help us see it, even in ourselves. 🙂
That’s lovely, yes showing which line moved you is usually the safest way haha
You are the most prolific poet ever on the face of this Earth.
Haha if only I wrote quality verse, being prolific has yet to enable me much else that a poet’s joy. Creation is enough, I suppose 😉
Lovely! My favorite part:
“Like a woman with untidy hair
The bouquet that was our affection had
Become messy, passionate with a fragrance
For an obsession at the garden”
Such graceful words! Thank you . . . .
Thanks Laura, I like the messy hair part too 😛