Momento Mori
a smile upon a young girl’s face
as she plucks a rose from a garden bed
hair filled with Queen-Anne’s-lace
a crown of daisy’s adorns her head
no sooner plucked then left for dead
though an honorable thief
with heart as pure as gold
these aren’t the flowers of O’Keeffe
whose features won’t grow old,
petals will droop, decay, mold
to watch a flower wither
is an honest thing
she kept the crown with her
memento mori she could bring
as she planned redemption in the spring
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
