Mary's Rose Garden
There is a garden
in which blossoms revel
in sunlight’s divine aura,
and glistening dewdrops
dance upon petals
fine as silk
The scent,
like the perfume of Aphrodite herself,
pervades the air with its aroma--
reminiscent of love and beauty
The thorny spines
uphold a family of blossoms--
some resplendent in their debut,
their petals lustrous with color
and heavy with fragrance
Others show signs of waning--
their fragile hips,
curled and fading,
timeworn, but
still lovely in their ripeness
In this place,
Serenity reigns
Time is of no consequence
There is only the light,
the fragrant breeze,
and the colors that paint the air
with pigments of lavender, mauve, lilac, and blush
And if you sit long enough
and listen carefully,
you may hear,
among the sounds of drifting water
and a crane’s solitary cry,
the sigh of roses
content in their quiet existence
If you listen…
in Mary’s Rose Garden.
Copyright © Shelley Moore | Year Posted 2015
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