The Musk of the Rose
Leaves fell,
wind blew,
dark winter's night,
the fragile air
saturated with dew.
She knew
a certainty that bound
a knot in her stomach.
He won't come tonight.
Was it worth the wait,
wailing for her lover
like a boat ready for sailing
only to find a stormy sea?
Had she not closed all doors?
Closed louvers and secured
every blessed window
of her lonely soul?
Now she could but dream
of him she scared away,
Now her garden was empty,
the musk of the rose gone forever.
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