My Iron Rose

My iron rose,

Does not ask for the grace of spring.

For She knows,
The language
Of stormy weather.

The weight of rain.
The bite of wind

The patience of her roots
In soil,
unkind.

My Iron rose
Tall, stemmed.
Standing
in a neighbourhood of fallen petals.

Her patina,
shinning its own eternal beauty,
through cloud laden light.

---

Happy birthday darling

As the years pass on by

I still look at you the same

I see that bright, kind, beautiful fierce girl I sat next to

Despite everything that has happened from that moment till now.

All the storms and sunny days

It seems like you haven’t changed at all

Youre still this beautiful, iron rose.

Love you always.

Happy Birthday