The fragrance of the rose was beautiful and touched the senses magically,
The velvet softness of petals immersed my feelings with such intensity it almost made me cry,
And the very essence of them being around me filled me with hope,
And although helpless,
My eyes failed to witness the scene.
Drinking in the majesty, I found myself feeling like Royalty,
Whilst everything around me flew by in some frantic scene,
Whilst my senses overtook the aroma and got ahead of me,
Waiting for that next euphoria,
Raising my every feeling, and lightening my way,
Like some torch of sight
And yet, although dark, I could see it,
In my mind,
And the peace that it brought me, was overwhelming.
I sat alone amongst the fragrance,
Blissfully unaware that no-one really saw me,
Or warranted me a look,
Of pity, or otherwise sought to gain my opinion.
It did not matter, for although I could not see,
The very effervescence of it all took my breath away..
A rose by any other name, shall sharpen my senses, and make all the colours as one.
In my mind, it was relevant to the day,
And will forever stay in my mind.
It brought me joy.
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Comments about this poem (The Rose by Phil Soar )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
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