Poem - 30 January 2025, 10:47

A Rose of Beauty Herself

As the final hour of the day closes,
An angel above gifts me a Peony,
Its petals fall slowly
Across my window glass…
Whispering to me softly,
“Breathe, breathe”
—
At last.

At times the flower
Visits during the day,
When the sun is long risen
And evil spirits are dismayed,
It is at this peaceful hour
That my sorrows are kept at bay,
As I listen to her song,
And watch her petals as they sway.

In the evening light
When the sun and moon are dancing,
I behold her form now clearly,
Vines twisting and turning,
A beauty of divine colours,
To stand in her presence is an honour.

A feminine creature
of beauty’s incarnate,
Much wiser than all of her years.
With a voice as tender
as the moving water
That trickles down the grass
to the lake
When the sky brings forth its tears.

A delicate being so sweet,
So lovely and fair,
To reach out for a touch
May taint her pure heart’s fate
–

A sin I will lot dare.

–
So I do nothing
But lie awake and stare.

This night,
When she knocks on my door,
I hope she’ll come to me
As she appeared the night before,
So that I may look upon her closely,
And gaze into those eyes in awe.

I pray that my angel
Grants what I’m hoping for.

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