To This Rose

Budding up,
reaching for the warmth,
to free your clench of splendor,
to spread you wide,
each fold, after florid fold,
to release you
to sing
in the beguiling tones
of your siren scent,
as we await,
hungry for our breath of you,
eager, to find ourselves adrift
along the fleeting moments
of your redolent heaven;
gladly then to go with you
toward our gentle loss,
as you fade
into the sweet haze
of our memory
of other flowering songs to come.

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