The lovely yellow roses gently fluttered in the mountain breeze.
The soft, delicate blooms living like artifacts of an era long past,
Growing heartily as a symbol over the man that loved them so,
As royal sentinels, they stand watch for his return to come at last.
Pastoral was the land and poetic the scene as I stood and beheld
The silent monument of my beloved captain and favored friend.
The final resting place, a subtle antithesis of his heroic existence,
Reverently whispered his famed honor like a chorus in the wind.
The winds of change, ever virile; stealthily snatched my innocence!
Oh, do I yearn for the warm and passionate summer of my youth,
Those blessed days of mirth, coy adventure, and patent simplicity,
Heeding my captain, enchanted by his rough but chivalrous couth.
That booming voice, firm but consoling, painted his colorful being.
And the wonderful, wild yellow roses stand strong and undaunted,
So lonely; silently weeping in the frigid winter - joyful in spring,
Herald my captain’s life, a great epoch of hope, and love not flaunted.
by Jeff Hicks
0 comments:
Post a Comment