Golden Rose

The wilted pedals on the Golden rose
flew away in the Autumn breeze.
They soared above the sun, and by the shore;
They carried themselves over the seas.

The wilted pedals on the Golden rose
Have begun to smell the salty air.
The moaning the steam boat,
And the roaring of the tugboat,
Drew near an unwelcomed fear.

And as the crimson lit sky,
Turned an ominous shade,
Each pedal shed a wet, heartbroken tear.
But the crowing of the gulls
and the shadows of the tripe
Gave them faith that hope was near

by Charles Andres Alberto

Other poems of ALBERTO (12)

Comments (2)

Fantastic images of sight, movement and smell...
WOW! I love your poem The Golden Rose.