A Rose That Wilted

Pure crimson like the forbidden fruits from Garden of Eden

Finely shaped like the contours of a woman’s body

Accentuated with pilfered colors from the twilight sky

Sensuous like the doting gaze of a devoted lover


Exquisite like the finest gossamer’s silks

Unyielding like a noble aristocrat’s sword in battle

Embellished by a magician’s hand, so poetic in its prose

A tragic carcass of ill-fated love glorified in tombs


Yet perfect is a fool’s gamble, a mystic disillusion

Like the break of dawn after a long shadowy night

The sweet ambrosia of immortality remains untasted

And with each passing second Charon’s ferry draws near


Death holding a scythe moves stealthily in hushed whispers

With each drop of petal, a flower forgets how to bloom

Poison like evil intent spreading rapidly through its roots

Tasting the bitterness of autumn before its arrival


Death clasps the flower like a mother’s warm embrace

Like an ailed child seeking comfort it goes readily

Rain, the harbinger of a harrowing calamity falls somberly

As the earth in terrible anguish mourns the loss of its own


At dusk when the sky is cast aglow with magenta hues

A flower falters and exhales a soft quiet farewell

Birds stop chirping while the butterflies spread their wings

In magnificent tribute of The Rose that wilted too soon

What are you looking for?