Middle-Aged Rose
Soft-scented rose in well-forded dale
Your taut stem worn and stale
When sprinkled, buds barely swell
Wavering petals your waning sail
Your contantly, preened leaves have lost detail
Filed thorns no longer suitors assail
Bushy foliage twines your lagging tail
Succulent scent no more casts alluring spell
Fawning heat has turned rosy hue pale
Abundant nectar from your pods will no longer trail
When pollinating lips against your fertile tips flail
Tapping into your fruitless, barren cell
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