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Twenty-eight's a rose in perfect bloom
Weathering a mild, sunny spring.
Each day sustains a rapture deep and blue,
No hint of ultimate darkness seeping through,
Though roses are well-versed in suffering.
Yet now, for happiness, there's ample room.
Even mystics, lovers of the night,
In darkness feel the same rhapsodic madness
Given all who keep the sky in view,
Heaven light or dark, in joy or sadness,
The lovely rose afire with delight.
All poems: copyright by
Nicholas Gordon
Free scrapbook poems
permission to use
provided by the author. |
