A Poem by Joseph Roque
Patient and solitary, a misplaced
tiny bud waits expectantly
in a dry, drab field, craves the dew
and sun of a first spring morning.
No company, no friends, content
in its own skin, confident of its place
and what it has to offer─
Readies itself for birth,
unstoppable, perfectly persistent
grace and beauty
known only to a rose.
Joseph Roque is a poet who frequently writes about life, love, loneliness, growing older, alienation, and the joys of youth. His poems have appeared in Psychopoetica, Mad Swirl, Aphelion, Death Head Grin, The Poet’s Haven, RagMag, and Cerebration. His latest book is Ashes And Excuses.