If only I knew the scent was a mere illusion
And the bloom was a mistake of perception,
I would not have tried to water the plant
With tears of happiness and hopes infant.
Ephemeral celebrations have plummeted.
The spirits have all died down enervated.
I can see flowers but together in a wreath
Reminiscent of the solemn shroud beneath.
I felt I descried a rose, I thought I saw one.
But there are only thorns and roses none.
As I walk on this path strewn with thorns
The mind refuses to let go of the bygones.
There is no rose, there still stands a grave.
It is immutable though I yearn and crave.
And the bloom was a mistake of perception,
I would not have tried to water the plant
With tears of happiness and hopes infant.
Ephemeral celebrations have plummeted.
The spirits have all died down enervated.
I can see flowers but together in a wreath
Reminiscent of the solemn shroud beneath.
I felt I descried a rose, I thought I saw one.
But there are only thorns and roses none.
As I walk on this path strewn with thorns
The mind refuses to let go of the bygones.
There is no rose, there still stands a grave.
It is immutable though I yearn and crave.
2 comments:
i just hope these contrasting emotions and feelings are not the result of a feminine influence..
bobli....
where's the ol cool template of ur blog?
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