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Poem
glanced at one last rose in my garden!           
                            deep crimson velvety petals - 
                  incandescent as luminous horizon at sunset,           
         when Mother Earth bids adieu to the seven-horse charioteer,          
                       mystifying as the shadow of amber clouds 
                           in the azure lake beside my cottage...          
                    when there is no wrinkle in the tranquil water ~ 
                                ripples which scatter shadows 
                            as if tiny pieces of shattered glasses~        
                glowing as the colour of my pulsating, fluttering heart ~ 
                   at the delightful thoughts of being with my beloved. 
          
                        summer is leaving ~  with a saddened heart, 
                      my enchanting garden losing its gorgeous lustre, 
                               only with the hope of rejuvenation,          
                      hard to believe ~ there were blushing beaming 
                          dahlias, magnolias, jinias, not too long ago, 
                             envying and competing with each other!          
                                            nowhere in sight.          

                               magical rose bush almost abandoned...  
                                              one last flower
                                      bursting with radiant hues, 
                                    still smiling a ravishing smile ~         
                                       last dance of a ballerina ~ 
                            a jubilant performance of a creative soul, 
                                before the curtain finally drops and 
                      the performer fades away with a departing bow.      
                  reminding the inevitability of separation, decay and death. 
                  

                                         It is alone and lonely...
                           swaying and twirling on a brittle branch 
                     which clings to the final witness of the rejoicing,          
                 I see the solitary beauty, bravely waiting to join its clan.....          
                       I will wait to see the resurgence of a new bud ~         
                                    I will wait, and not despair. 

                       
Reference:
Seven-horse Charioteer: In ancient Indian literature, Surya's (Sun's) iconography is often depicted riding a chariot harnessed by horses (Source: Wikipedia)

                                    November 30, 2020
                               The Last 1 Poetry Contest
                               Sponsor: Anthony Biaanco
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