Red Roses

“Grandma show me something beautiful,” I say

She points to the red roses over the cracking wooden fence

Thorns sharp yet flower so soft

I know she points at me

My tongue tickles from the red popsicle full of spice

Just as when I told her years later as I looked to the sky

"I am both the thorn and the petal."

I lit the passing ray of sun as I offered these words

And through the dancing red flame she sent me her message

The masculine and feminine energy you hold is beauty

Just as the roses I pointed to