Birthday rose

the color of purity, or brand new, unused cloth diapers,

(I remember those days so fondly.)

The green leaves are the same shade

as the grass my sweet husband mows.

Standing as tall as 150% the height of the vase

(I don’t really love math,

that’s just keeping those skills from getting rusty.)

Each day on the way to #64,

it opens a little more,  gently,

as carefully as we open the door

when we KNOW April 1st is hiding a trick somewhere.

The fragrance is subtle, but oh so pleasant

so subtle that it can only be sniffed deliberately

and worth the effort.

by Nancy Ann Smith