The War of the Roses

Red on one side, white on the other
the roses steadfastly facing one another
I was caught in the middle like some referee
with both lines armed with sharp points aimed at me

As I stood uncertain of which way to go
my hand gripped my own short weapon you know
twin blades close together would soon be apart
as I released the catch and to war I did start

Soon my blood was seen to drip on the ground
but on I pressed cutting the reds to the sound
of my gritted cursing as I stuck to the task
cutting twenty four roses for which I'd been asked

It could have been whites that I'd gathered that day
but with red the drips from my fingers didn't need washing away....

(c)Rhumour
October 26th 2009