A Rose Gave Up Her Secret
A rose gave up her secret
Of its origin - of its beauty -
In the shadow of her crescent -
Fiercely hushed once to me.
She told me of a plan of love
And a Master Gardener who
Has a touch of silver that betrothed
The rose to the morning dew
And described a plane in between
Nothing and a foundation -
The design of which is unbreached -
That lies in an unmeasured dimension
But her exact words were lost
To the enjambment of my memory -
Moreover - my comprehension lapsed -
Found lost inextricably.
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