Bench Without a Rose
How stone-black is the park at will
And frail is the twilight
That glimmers across an uphill
Yet teardrops roll, all decked in white.
~
Later, amidst the evening rain
When hours drift in repose
The pounding lash of time contains
A bench without a rose.
Contest , Brian's Select B
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment