Paul Holmes | + Follow Poet |
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Seven Pink Roses

Upon an old cottage window-sill

Within a white chipped vase

Seven pale roses droop, 

Pensively looking at the stars; 

The Pleiades, the “Seven Sisters”

Burn faintly up in the sky

And cast just a little light 

Upon roses about to die, 

Yet, those radiant glowing stars

Stirred a warmth within

The heart of each one

Like a pulse beneath ones skin

Animating a strong urge, 

A need to often look to 

Stars of a deep blue fire; 

Thus, that night they pulled through.

Now they share an affinity

Not previously felt before,

And a keener sense of purpose 

Their influence did restore;

A fresher, greener hue

Pervades each crinkled leaf

And no longer is there black gloom

Or an air of outright grief;

Now each uplifted head

Seems to show a glow

Of utter contentment

The kind that loved ones know.

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