maybe petals on roses only
exist silently
for the awe of those who live
and to die with grace
do they know that
those who live to seek beauty
will never be satisfied
in a placid field of perishable roses ?
the chief of those who are hungry
for beauty stood on a stump's swirls
she observed all that made life godly
then came her gusty summon
within the oceans of her eyes was
a creature i recognised
scorning at my feeble revival
of a love that was never born.
one glance and i know
i am as equally doomed upon
my foolish dependence
on a mortal as a rose's on us
yet i dove.
YOU ARE READING
her musings - poetry
Poesíaa collection of poems i write to understand myself more and relief my ever-evolving emotions on love, loss, yearning, my passions and my connections with other humans.
