Commentary and Philosophy Poetry posted July 24, 2009 |
quatrains in 8/7/8/7
The Last Rose
by adewpearl
My trellis held a single rose that grew beyond the season. She would not break her stately pose nor share with me her reason. Each day's first light would soon expose the answer to my question -- my rose still wore her petaled clothes but proffered no confession. Till one crisp night my flower chose she would not meet the morrow. Her secrets now with her repose, my questions turned to sorrow. |
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