The Red Whisper

Rose red reborns with every shed, the buds breathe volumes in every head. The trail of petals lead notes re-read, for the the giver is appreciative in what she's said. Like a stroll in the park or a walk in the sands, the refreshing take is at your hands. In the palm of passion, the beauty of love, so calm and relaxin', a duty worth of. Sub Rosa like no other, club soda, sprites, and shrubs. The blistering thorns are spikes we chugg. Bitter and sweet, a mound of hugs. A pearly retreat or lackthereof. Smooth and sultry, they clack when tugged. Compiling heat in the violently rub, the friction of peace is pummeled by grudge. At ease, at last with the morning grass he dug... A rosebush re-planted to pass more love.