Dew rests on your unfurled petals,
Shut tight against the night’s brutal cold,
Even the sun’s first caress
Won’t entice you from that defensive fold.
And so it must cajole you,
Soften each petal with a warming ray,
One by one your defences surrender
As golden barricades give way.
It rises high, the air turns hot,
You fluff into full bloom,
A glowing rose standing proud,
The perfect bride to the the sun’s groom.
Amongst the bees you’re a favourite now,
Admired and coveted by all who see,
You’re that yellow rose turned man
And the nuturing sun is me.