If it were not for the traffic lights
Turning red upon the hill -
I would have missed the raw beauty
Of the dog-rose
Growing wild beside the road.
In the wind-swept hedgerow
Bobbing and curtseying
To the passers-by
Who never stop to say hello -
Until this day
When they chose to dig up the road.
You sit, waiting with impatience
For the lights to change
Then
Looking about
You spy the rose
Dressed in pink gown
Her white heart smiling
At your frown.
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