The bloom of life

The rose,
cognizant of
its perils
of the
morrow,
still exhibits
a grand grace
of budding
and blooming;
the colors
and fragrances
on full heartfelt offer
to all the passers-by;
and not just those
who turned
the soil at its feet
in the garden
one misty dawn.....

And I,
with a choice
of life,love and liberty
throughout,
still crib
and hold back;
a glare here,
sometimes a stare
in anger,
a turning away,
a closing of the heart,
sometimes,
the mind;
pushing the future
to be
just so........

When all is said and done
the petals lie
in a soft carpet
sprinkled with dew
happy at the end of life...

And I
at the end of mine,
still searching,
but
have
not yet
found it......