The Dying Rose

The rose can't brave the strength of agile time, Which thwarts her pride and takes away her grace; She harbours hope to rise in a new clime. The rose had scoffed at that yonder wild thyme, For it was not endowed with a svelte face; The rose can't brave the strength of agile time. When she was youthful, nature sang a rhyme, The vernal wind wanted her sweet embrace; She harbours hope to rise in a new clime. The rose envies the oak, whom she can't mime, That tall tree defies time's unceasing race; The rose can't brave the strength of agile time. God forgives time despite his vicious crime, That hapless, transient rose he would deface; She harbours hope to rise in a new clime. One single rose –a special paradigm– Is trounced and tarnished by time's lightning pace. The rose can't brave the strength of agile time, She harbours hope to rise in a new clime. 25th January, 2020 Your Best 2019-2020 Villanelle Poetry Contest Sponsored by: William Kekaula