Wild Rose
A flower long reposed
Amongst the lush green fields,
grassy knolls
I thought to have
but wanted first
and evening became
as dark the ash
amidst an ambers burn
As fate would have it.
A certain place
glass vases make,
in statuesque remembrance
Of days it stood
open and free
lavished by the sun
and honey bees..
How wild a thing
of beauty sings
in colors splashed
on fields of green
And make no brighter
in having then being..
Out of fields to remembrances
Of a once more precious thing
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