They say that roses fade--
And so they do with those
Comfortable thoughts that prance
And pander to the grave.
But maybe not with those
Sights that penetrate the shroud,
That risk the quality, red-velvet-sown,
And breathe beyond the show.
And so, resting in my outstretched hand
My offering: --that dust cannot diminish
What we do or have ever done--
This rose that glows eternally,
Reflected in my eyes,
Unconqured, and at a gallop freely given.
R.Edwards