Revisions no More, they never were Much.
A Sonnet written Once never ALters.
Though it blooms every color of the Spectrum
It leaves much more to be Forgotten Mulch.
Yet that it Harbors in its Loveliness
Decline or lost Petal is still a Rose.
From January through Summer Thorn Cross.
Lit from the Source of its Bower Tress.
From Roots of its Mysterious Hour
Alone and adorned in arms of the Mantle.
STrikes up from Safe Chambers Wrestles.
Eyes of the Darkness stoked in the GLow.
That Rose that single head topping its Crown
Rose, Flowered in Music Flowered in Song
No comments:
Post a Comment