Beside the pool

 I passed the rose who tore my sleeve
pretended not to notice the intrusion,
every time I come this way, it is the same
not spoken for weeks, hides behind the thorns
sulking, turns away her fading blooms.
No buzz of bees, no butterflies.
But round the corner there is a pool
full of golden fish and croaking frogs
water boatmen, swifts glean  flies,
languid lily the dragonfly her lover,
watch them from the stone surround,
roll up my sleeve and cup my hands
to take a cooling drink.