Red Roses

You always left me red roses...
a single one,
lying by a steaming cup
of warm love's morning brew;
blood red,
petals tightly closed around a single point
of deep emotion.

You always left me red roses...
four or five,
sticking out above the curling paws
of red or white stuffed bears;
blood red,
petals partly opened to permit some light
to touch the soul.

You always left me red roses...
 eleven or a dozen,
plumped up on heart-shaped pillows
or against white satin sheets;
blood red,
petals fully opened to receive and give
of passion's heat.

You always left me
red roses...