I fear the laughter of the roses
The roses
pale faces
peer in
from the room lit darkness.
Nodding at my window.
I call them jealous
of my large warm bed.
They whine at
their cramped
pansy ridden
place.
I fear the truth.
The truth is
they're laughing.
Laughing at my
shallow roots,
soft thornless stem.
The roses nod
at my window.
And the breeze
carries their laughter.