The Silence of the Rose
Silent rose, adrift on the morning's breeze,
In my misty, pale garden, she sails free,
Her scents drive my nose to sneeze,
Paradox of quietude and vibrancy.
Her whispers like bells, sweet and clear,
Over bridges of time, a longing swells,
Stretching my ears, can't help but hear,
Symphony of emotions, she compels.
Deafening silence, harsh and tense,
Overwhelms me with its weight,
Strips smiles from defenseless stars,
Left me hurt, groaning in its gait.
Her silence, piercing deep and through,
Reopening scars, long-thought healed,
Drawing tears I can't subdue,
Punitive notions bleed.
Creeping, crackling through the closed door—
Into chambers of my guarded heart,
Unmindful of vengeance, it seeks no more,
Ever since her wakeful start.
Bottomless depth, the silence of the rose,
Lulls my soul to faint within its hold,
In this cradle of peace, where hearts repose,
Alone, feeling safe and bold.
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