Sunken Roses Petals.
Sunken deep through tesselate thoughts
upon desicrate emotions in earth; vile
and an array of buck wheat and barley.
Incense and lavender fill the polluted
air and whisp the sweet fragreance upon
the essence and aroma of wilting rose petals.
Ones soul is stemed and heart is budded
yet ones life upon pictures and movies
becomes no comparison to the animation
of the arrival that parts ones life from
sanctity and another from a desilate place.
Small and mighty comes the rose with
a fortuitus beauty which gathers that
ingenuity to harvest the glow of the sun.
As the dawn of wrath; the night it falls,
the far cry of diver winters set upon
the grace of this natural phenomenon.
As the steady breeze builds up and the
soul of the plant cannot weather the
bitterness and hatred winter brings,
Astray the heart, the bud cast shatters;
and scatters its diversity through
the landscape and rebirth of an
invigerating and most elligant of plants.
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