Withered On The Grass

Rating: 5.0
How I loved my pretty rose so fragrant in the sun,
In those butterscotch hours when time was young,
And the obsidian nights were made for dreaming,
Long before the sunset, when birds were screaming!
Withered upon grass it laid, gone in one moment,
And memory lingers like a lovely shadow of scent,
My pretty rose so mulberry hued before the fall,
Living but a season, could it have lived at all?
Indeed it must have, for it has ever followed me,
And colored my marmalade days in memory of beauty!
Saturday, February 20, 2021
Topic(s) of this poem: rhyme,beauty of rose,life,death,memory,green
Photograph courtesy of Jorge Gardner from Unsplash
David Wood 21 February 2021
Absolutely beautiful. This is poetry at it's best. A good 5*++++
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Captain Cur 21 February 2021
A well toasted, sweet and buttery write. A sumptuous affair with that rose lying in a bed of beautifully worded images.
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Deluke Muwanigwa 21 February 2021
Lovely poem. Sublime metaphors rhymes and flow.
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Robert Murray Smith 20 February 2021
Marmalade days. Beautifully expressed.
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Kostas Lagos 20 February 2021
Roses make everything more beautiful.Lovely poem
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2/22/2021 1:55:45 PM #