The rose falls, petals fluttering
like butterfly escape,
and bruised this delicate velvet bloom,
so forlorn to assume an endless life,
yet too soon that break, that snapping
of stem in thoughtless mistake,
that saw such beauty fall.
Beauty rides that flow just as we,
one moment here, the next
the luxury of foresight unseen,
and break we may our body and will
to find our time is nil,
as beauty shrivels to aged recall,
the toil of life taken toll.
And swept away that broken rose,
trash from beauty’s sake annulled,
and what held hearts, gasped of breath,
now a paltry aberrant death,
out of sight and out of mind,
blinded to the cycles driven in kind,
a flower’s soul bereft.
We are no different,
death a calling at its command,
shriveled we in age’s strangling band,
and so each moment has meaning,
we, scheming to outsmart that reaper,
hang on to life and never breach the limits
of how we risk our minds.
Until then, we stand tall,
proud of all we are,
and pray for days to carry on
with we still attached,
gleaning what we can for a soul reaching,
a mind in keeping with life’s plan.
Tony DeLorger © 2017
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