When It Comes to Roses

When I pull into my modest driveway,
Can I say I find myself staring a little? For an extra moment at roses. I get a little closer. I won't say that I don't study as I walk by. But I do.
And I think, "I like the bright pink ones.Glad I have those."

I get the same feeling about some of my long-time and new, girliest friends.
And I think, "I like the purple ones, too."

So melancholy and complicated. Now that I'm older... I know everyone's like that about something.
And I think, "I like the yellow ones. Can't help it."

It reminds me to be more content, creative, and outgoing.
This specimen is a little late in blooming.
And I think, "These just might be my favorites."

Bright, but subtle, always somehow changing colors. Worth the wait.
I think I might have found something in roses I tend on occasion:
A piece of me. And I'm willing to take notice.