Soliloquy on Summer’s Last Rose

Both fire and rain, so vast the rationed storm,
It’s September.  a time well known for squalls.
Tho skies are tempest tossed, His hand commands
weather that will sustain a single rose…
one scarlet bud upon an em’rald stem.
Such treasure is undeserved by mortal,
Such pleasure designed free from sin and now
the only vision to disturb …  mankind’s
foul blot on this picture of perfection.
Even so, the bloom casts its spell on all,
the silken petals lend their softer touch.
…..One time I might have plucked it for my bliss,
…..Today it is enough that it exists.

2 thoughts on “Soliloquy on Summer’s Last Rose

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