Reply to "ROSES"

Thank you Margherita for bringing back this very beautiful topic of roses. I love your image of the winter rose.
Winter is over, but we still remember the snow covered rose.

Winter’s Rose

When heaven exhales its first icy kiss,
Upon the old sod where beneath he rests,
An ashen hand leaves a winter's rose
When heaven exhales its first icy kiss.

Upon his cold bed in mournful repose
At dawn the blade pierces her sallow breast,
When heaven exhales its first icy kiss
Upon the old sod where beneath he rests.

Upon his cold bed in mournful repose,
One final dream wooed with a lover's bliss,
To wake with the ghost of summer’s caress
Upon his cold bed in mournful repose.

A rose to her heart that heaven might bless,
Palm to smooth ivory, a tightened fist.
Upon his cold bed in mournful repose,
At dawn the blade pierces her sallow breast.

A rose to her heart that heaven might bless.
That, and the dream of a soldiers's last kiss.
Sorrow born bitter from naught she had chose,
A rose to her heart that heaven might bless.

Sorrow born bitter from naught she had chose,
Sounding a cry o'er the twilight myst,
A rose to her heart that heaven might bless,
Palm to smooth ivory, a tightened fist.



jeanne rene 8/04

http://www.authorsden.com/visit/viewpoetry.asp?AuthorID=18788&id=119286