favorite date to date:
nine-four-nineteen.
six-thirty in the morning,
depart the econo motel
after rain,
squeaky tracks
train to
washington park.
disembark,
i start pilgrimaging,
following sign after sign
& trekking two miles
through lush wood.
finally,
come to a clearing
& see another sign
that read
“international rose garden
ahead.” ahead
endless beds of
blooming pink, white, red
yellow, orange, hybrid
cultivated here,
near and far.
not a soul as i sole
through the ambrosia
& pulchritude.
those roses
will forever
bed in my head
when i ruminate on
my favorite date
to date. 🌹