The Withered Rose Poem by Elliott Rosenberg

The Withered Rose



Rose of incessant color,
Where have your petals gone?
Withered with floral acumen,
doused in florid wine.

From Its thistle I have drank,
Infused of ebullient ocean brine,
Fermenting in maternal calyx,
Aged in the sun.

Your thorns bleed of venom,
Drawn from nagas lore,
Bringing to my lips,
A thirsty knowledge evermore.

Now that thoughts have begotten,
A fleshy regal sepal lobe,
I finally understand,
Where my petals have all gone.

Monday, June 9, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: loss
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