Poem

I cultivate a white rose.
In July as in January
For the sincere friend
Who gives me his hand frankly

And for the cruel person who tears out
The heart with which I live,
I cultivate neither nettles nor thorns:
I cultivate a white rose.

Jose Marti, Cuban Poet

I first came across this poem when I was in college. For some reason I loved it. It has remained with me for years. I lost it for awhile and got to thinking about it when I was driving back from Des Moines. I Googled it and found it again and I wanted to share it with you. I think it says a lot about me. Who I am and who I try to be. Hugs, j