It moves toward the Rose!
The Frost!
And, slowly, her life goes …
The Cost –
Of Life, Beauty, Being!
All’s lost!
Then why this taut living?
For Frost.
Is this the Truth? Reply!
‘Tis so.
Why live then? Why, oh, why?
You know.
Nay, I do not … do I?
Do so.
For Frost does the Rose lie?
For Woe.
For Woe? She lived to die?!
In vain?
Her form crinkled, hue dry:
A stain
Upon the ice. I cry.
Again!
And what’d she get? Reply!
Your pain.
21st November
Hearts Still Care 