Popular Posts

07 January 2017

"Fifteen Weeks..?" (P.o.t.D. 1/7/09, rev 1/7/17)

Let me describe for you, a lovely rose:
Its scent so sweet - it just tickles your nose.
Vibrant reds attack your eyes as it grows;
Each petal peels away with soft breath blows...

Velvet sheets crumble 'tween rough fingertips;
Impaling thorns stick out 'long the long stem.
Bedecked with drops of August morning dew
Rained upon it with this summer's dawn drips.
Ants line its lower leaves -- breakfast for them?
Not one sound stirs this scene 'tween I and you --
Taste these words, like honey along your lips.

Reclining now, under summer's bitter heat,
Our rose, she does bend, stoop, wilt, and wither.
Summer's gone, petals fallen -- lone stem remains;
Ethereal was that bloom, now long gone.

No comments: