Saturday, February 5, 2011

Wood Rose



 The wind is dancing wildly outside.  Beyond my window I can see leaves swirling and falling to the ground.  Branches, half bare, bend low to catch them.  A night bird sings out his hollow song and embraces my soul.  I turn to see you sleeping, silver moonlight touching your face.  You lay warm and  vulnerable; completely unaware of anything.  You are a man and yet you are a child.  You are my heart.



  Beside is the last wood rose.  As I rescue it from its crystal prison petals fall at my feet.  They pool like silent tears.  One day, like this wood rose, I too shall lose my beauty.  So love me now my darling, for I fear you may not love me then.


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