A cliche is a phrase or situation that is overly used. Around here, it's a cliche to say, "But it's a dry heat." (Everyone says that to try to console us when summer hits. My response is: I don't care if it's dry, 120F - 49C - is still freaking hot!) The dumb, sexy, blond secretary is a cliche. Love = roses, sadness = rain, thunderstorms in horror movies, all of these things are seen over and over again, so they can be considered cliche. In a way, your lines are cliche because love has been teamed up with roses throughout the centuries. On the other hand, the way you write it is outside the usual convention, so I probably wouldn't consider it cliche. (It would be easier to see it in the full poem for me to give a conclusive "yeah or nay," but considering the poems of yours that I've read, I suspect you didn't fall into the cliche pit.) That's my two pence. ;-)