Gilded by the garden lie, amongst the emeralds here divine,
And settle down inside the dirt for worth.
Alas my love, your petals shine, as roses in the heart asks why,
And the garden grows in girth.
I have not kept, but surley wept, the heavens in the clouds.
As fire looms, in the devils bloom and the harps are loud.
Yet angels roam, as tears of frost fall gently still at natures cost.
And love remains but proud.
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Author:
RSM (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 15th, 2026 04:07
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
Wow!! Such beauty in this verse it breaths with a most classical feel it oozes romance for nature and in metaphor for maybe another. A definite fave
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