My midnight rose, who dwells in crumbled stone!
I crave your scent; your fragrance makes me yearn
For moments past, for dreams and days long gone,
For distant lands, for paths with no return.
The stars are gone; the world will soon remain
Black as your heart, and ignorant of pain
That plagues the souls of those who dare to hope,
Who cannot tell themselves to call a stop.
My twilight rose! The field of war still burns,
The battle in my heart will never end.
I reach for you, forgetful of your thorns,
But you slip through my hands like fickle sand.
The woods, the smells and sounds of summer night -
These memories make me your helpless prey.
I'm yearning for the day, for morning's light,
Forgetting I will die with first sun's ray.
Midnight rose
© Copyright: Celena Costello, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №112010405124
Свидетельство о публикации №112010405124
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