Rose Departure

I...looked upon the roses,
Hanging dead.
So different to the time,
Before their petals shed.

And different still,
When they were fresh and new.
When breezes brushed them lightly,
And they were touched by dew.

To see them all along the path,
Was such a regal sight.
With perfume floating on the air,
Filled me with pure delight.

Men's souls are like the roses,
That bloom in beauty here.
For no one knows the hour,
Nor when the end is near.

Days make up a life-time,
And years come to a close.
The spirit...leaves the body,
Dead...just like the rose.

******************

If PERFECTNESS was being displayed to the
eyes of mankind...what better object could
portray it with exactness...than a beautiful,
perfume-laiden rose?


E.P. 1908 - 1989