Morgan Michaels


Fade


Lord, let me fade like roses fade
Wanting at last just a little sense
Ceding at most just a little red.

A little sad, a little glad
For past opulence.
Lord, let me fade like roses fade

Out- sugar water fed
Shedding enough incense
To turn a small boy's head.

But with thorns sharp to draw blood
And prick a fool to sense
Crowding my stem in multitude.

Never say I'm dead
But like a compound tense
Say I'm out-of-fashion, say instead

I've gone to bed
Maybe to awaken many ages hence-
Lord, let me fade like roses fade
Bleeding just a little red.

Submitted: Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Edited: Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Topic(s): love


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