A Subtleness That Fits

Who am I to say...
A displayed rose,
Is not conceited!

With a slow blooming,
Showing to reveal...
Its appeal is very exquisite.

There is a subtleness that fits,
An elusive delicateness...
One either bends down to it,
Or select it to pick...
To sniff unresisting.

To say that a rose,
By another name chosen...
Would still be that rose?
That I do not know.

Although a rose conceited or not,
Leaves a fragrance...
Not easily forgotten.
By a nose left impressed.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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