They are the only ones who see me. I am the only one who sees them. Seven rugged roses with rugged bodies and soft cheeks like mine. Seven who do not belong here but are here. Seven raggedy excuses planted in my room. From our office we can watch them, but Jenny just sleeps and doesn’t appreciate these things.

Their beauty is secret. They send piercing glares across the room. They stand tall and they wait patiently and grab your attention with their scary stare and steal the gaze with confident pupils and never stop their stride. This is how they keep.

Let one forget her reason for being, they’d all rot away like daisies thrown in the hot Arizona sand, each by herself with the fingers in the soil. Keep, keep, keep, roses say when I sleep. They glow.

When I am too sad and too skinny to keep keeping, when I am a tiny thing against so many bricks, then it is I look at trees. When there is nothing left to look at in this room. Seven who grew despite isolation. Seven who stand and do not forget to brag. Seven whose only reason is to be and be.