Craig Cornish Poet Quatrain

The Rose

'Tis the rose that wants to live
that rails against the frost,
tightly closed, the petals warm
the Autumn heart that summer lost.

The dew that drips from rose to leaf
like tears from cheek to breast,
once was cold, now shimmers warm
to earn, at last, its rest.

The blackened bud, once struck with cold
appears to others dead,
but burns within, a passionate soul
and heart of bright and crimson red.

And bursting forth it cannot hide
the will to live within.
Its bold and subtle softness tells,
persistent hearts can win.

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Juliet Ligon March 4, 2019 at 8:06 PM Beautiful descriptions. I love the way you tied in the last line.

Darlene De Beaulieu November 8, 2017 at 8:15 PM I like the roses such a pretty flower. No matter what colour it is. have a nice evening my friend. Craig Cornish November 11, 2017 at 12:11 PM Very kind Darlene but I must tell that this poem has less to do with the rose and much to do with love. Read it in that vein and it will lend something else--hugs Craig Cornish November 11, 2017 at 12:11 PM Very kind Darlene but I must tell that this poem has less to do with the rose and much to do with love. Read it in that vein and it will lend something else--hugs