Gather Ye Rosebuds While Ye May
I’ve always thought this an odd injunction –
why would you gather only buds
when you could have the full-blown rose,
the whole blooming, blowsy magnificence,
the billowing of perfume and perfection?
Everyone knows that rosebuds, once plucked
never fully open; frozen in their immaturity
they hang their heads in sorrow and in shame.
No, this has a ring of seductive sophistry –
the bud of promise, the first deflowering,
the press of time, caparisoned in liberality:
I will take the whole rose, thank you,
Diana Cant is a poet and a child psychotherapist living and working in Kent. She aims, in some of her work, to give a voice to those young people who are less frequently heard. She has been published in a variety of journals and anthologies.