The Haze
Through the haze and age-tinted glass window,
as the afternoon breeze flirts with the uncared garden.
A glimpse of the reddish hue stirs,memoirs,
of the hour gone and decades past.
Strained sight finds the beloved plant,
that for ages promised a single flower.
Not exquisite petals not fragrance divine,
a red rose to complete bosom mine.
The bud and petals shrouded in autumn leaves,
heartless breeze carries away fragrance from midst.
To a land beyond the edge of time,
of endless space and starless clime
Wind melodious,fragrant with celestial colors,
fade at the sight of the shriveling flower.
Blossom lives through perishing flowers,
a withering red rose brings death of the bloom.
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