Thursday, April 23, 2009

The Rose and the Tear

Glistening on the rose,

Was the morning dew so clear,

But as I touched the petals

It fell, as does a tear.

The rose looked at me repoachfully

As if she were not mine,

I had robbed her of her moment

Of closeness with the divine.



My mood went on undaunted,

The morning's happinesss was near,

My eager hands reached to hold it,

It trembled, as the tear.

Give each glad thing its freedom,

The beauty of that hour

Will be God's greatest gift,

As the dew to the flower.


Published in Anthology

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