Waltz of The Roses

I roam alone like a drifting stream,

That floats along with vapours as they gleam; 

When all at once I spy a cluster bright,

Of blooming roses, a mesmerising sight.

 

Beside the lake, beneath the trees, 

Fluttering and dancing in the gentle breeze;

Continuous as the stars that shine at night, 

The roses stretch in never-ending delight.

 

The waves beside them dance; but they outshine, 

In a beauty that is truly so divine.

A host, of golden petals they display, 

Fluttering and dancing, as if in a grand ballet.

 

The water's edge, adorned with radiant hues,

Reflecting their charm in shimmering blues; 

A picture-perfect scene, a poet's treasure,

A sight to behold, a moment of pure pleasure.

 

For oft when on my settee I lie,

In vacant or brooding mood, I sigh; 

The image of those roses comes to me,

Bringing solace and joy, setting my soul free.

 

For oft, when in a sombre state of mind, 

The memory of those roses I find;

In blissful solitude, my heart does fill, 

With the beauty of nature, a tranquil thrill.

 

So, though I roam, a lonely soul,

The memory of those roses makes me whole;

In my heart they bloom, forever to stay,

A source of inspiration along life's way.