The Red Rose


It is my kiss, which never met your lips;

It is the one word I leave unuttered;

It is my soul in bloom, the petal tips

Unfolding on a hand without gesture.

Accept, to sense a touch beyond all touch;

To hear a silence filled with thoughtfulness.

Revere.  Let go of this reserve, this crutch

Of yours.  At last, you will be fetter-less.

I rightly fear that waving wand of thorns,

Your refusal.  The time for us is nigh.

I see that fading hour the rose is shorn

Of beauty, and the garden steeps in night.

Hence-forth, we will never be together,

And a thorn will pierce your heart forever.


September 27-29, 2010

October 2, 2010

Revised: August 11, 2013



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