Sonnet For a Rose

Oh so sad you look, poor wilting flower,
so much has changed since you first bloomed.
From when you were picked for my bower,
Rose, you were most assuredly doomed.

Now your blossoms wilt with the time to drop,
Your stem curving in its watery grave.
If your life must end and your beauty must stop,
Can any of us ever hope to be saved?

So I will lay you on the ground to die,
On that very spot that was your spring birth.
Winter's snow will cover you where you lie,
And return you back to your mother earth.

Spring will come with the slow change of season,
in my garden your pretty kin will bloom.
Their sight and smell will again be pleasing,
but deep in my heart I will always know;

Just as surely as this great earth does tilt,
That my life, as you did, will one day wilt.

Landis
11/16/08