The Ardent Rose

While holding frail roses close to the breast, I think of a dawn, so perfect and fair, ardent with sunlight and warm on the crest I watched from the window, you were recessed, deep in thorn bushes, gold in your hair, while holding frail roses close to the breast You seemed like a child, barefoot, at best, pulling a weed, as the breeze stirred the air, ardent with sunlight and warm on the crest You looked to the sky, your thoughts off somewhere, as if you knew time was fragile, at best, while holding frail roses close to the breast I think you knew then, how moments, compressed must fade like the rose, when autumn prepares, ardent with sunlight and warm on the crest I've learned through the years, how timeless and blessed are keepsakes we hold, like roses, once pressed, while holding frail roses close to my breast, ardent with sunlight, and warm on the crest __________________________________________________ 6/15/16 Inspired by Contest: Villanelle Me A Flower or Flowers Entered in Contest: Early June Premiere Contest Sponsored by Brian Strand