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Out Of Season Upon rising, descending Winter’s warning’s sent All that has been, must leave To gradually retreat From life’s bustle of vibrancy The rose pulls back into itself Leaving behind, traces of existence: Dry, fragrance-spent blossoms Holding tight, to never open buds Withering still drying leaves Once green pliant limbs Yielding to brittleness One, last blossom possessed Of summer’s charm stands tall In the garden of the dying Permitted to have flowered It justifies its purpose It clings to the day, catching Sunshine’s blessings, which fleetingly Slip in and out from behind portentous clouds Upon freezing, plant life goes Within to the place of the mysterious Until springtime when the cycle is initiated: Awakening, thriving, and departing over and over again. |
This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas H. Smihula On Date: 2007-12-04 11:10:26
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Dellena,
I feel a relationship as life is lived by the flower, each performs differently at the next season, some live once again while others slowly wilt away. Nice presentation and thought relayed.
Thanks, Thomas