Lawrence Hall, HSG
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                                          A Rose of Chambray

                                     Cf. Shakespeare, Sonnet 54

Comparisons to a rose are common, even trite
The Elizabethans seemed to write with rose perfume
White roses for purity, red for desire
Innocent petals, Macbethian thorns

How, then, roses for you, rockin’ your jeans
And an old chambray shirt, barefoot at the easel
With a bouquet of artists’ brushes in your hand
And your brow furrowed with creativity

I give you a perfect rose anyway

Comparisons to a rose are common, even trite
But with you the comparisons are exactly right