Roses

Sarah L. Summerhill 

You’re always going on about some enchanted
garden over the horizon,
where birds and bees sway in cliches,
endlessly, above thriving roses

so one day, I took you outdoors
to view the blossoms beside my window
but found myself bugged by the way you noted
how they were so full of spiders

I imagined that a star-gazer like yourself
could show me to dance like dragonflies do,
to summit the trees highest in stature,
to look out from the rooftops on the world we
hardly ever see from so far away
​
but you only know the way to la-la land
how to chase heat and fire and passion
only to return a few days later
because you miss the roses at home