Reflections

Clutched against the snow a militant rose holds onto sleep And dreams Still you want to know the ambiguity Of an unopened bud Before the wind scatters its dust among her skinny branches Where did it go, The secret of the tight-lipped rose Sitting beside you in the dark  of noiseless speculation, Waiting and watching for something to happen? You follow every snowflake With your unwavering gaze, As each falls and sizzles on her pink satin lids trailing silver One by one Like the slow and steady breath of snails or the stream of notes left behind an evening sung. Gradually buried  The poised and delicate beauty of her sleep is immortalized Under frozen ash in the gentle palm of winter Until it opens to catch raindrops on a cloudy day Revealing petals softly withered, tinged with gray, And finally awakens, releasing a galaxy of stars in her undisclosed night