The Flower Fields

We walked between the rows of roses' bloom

Which flowed a crimson river down the hills,

For April rains had grazed the land, exhumed

The dirt; transcending into reds distilled.

 

The sun refracted, wilting your veneer;

Your smile melancholy, eyes downcast

And I knew that you could not yet see clear

Your beauty is that which will never pass.

 

Do flowers need to hear they're elegant

For their red lips to blossom in the spring?

And you, as natural, and as heaven-sent

To grace me with your invisible wings?

 

For you have been my color from the start,

Transforming stony soil of my heart.

 

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