“On the cold cheek of death smiles and roses are blending, And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb.”– James Beattie
Time, her only companion as she sits in failing light.
Through the open window, a grassy scent of rain’s mist.
She breathes in, a wistful sigh falls from lonely lips
trying to remember the last time they kissed.
Hypnotic pattering rain and now, he’s here again
in her cloistered mind, using his enchanting charms
as she whiles away the hours ensconced in his arms.
Back then with him she was a delicate white orchid,
thriving in the lushness of his dewy rain forest
but now she’s naught but a dried crumbling rose,
protected by her heart, prickled with thorns.
©2018 Linda Lee Lyberg