The Final Cut Poem by Theresa Ann Moore

The Final Cut

Rating: 5.0


Gathering the very last roses
In the cold of a November night
As snowflakes begin to fall
Paled by the frail moon light

Thorny stems rigidly resist
The executioner’s icy blade
Gentleness thaws tarnished petals
As Summer’s departing kiss fades

Placed into a tall vase of water…
Reviving a romantic fragrance
The divine scent softly embraces
Bidding farewell…to existence

11/20/08

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Theresa Ann Moore

Theresa Ann Moore

Michigan, U.S.A.
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