A sombre poem by Steven J Smith



I sit, amidst the plethora of decaying vegetation

The faint glow of summer, fading into darkness

Beside the still water, I grip the single rose of crimson

An isolated figure; weary, silent and motionless

Staring at the calm, azure river in morbid retrospection

Observing a tear stained face on the reflected surface

A solitary swan disturbs my thoughts so melancholy

His head regal, his eyes filled with deserved pride

A smile flickers across the pale features of misery

And I toss the flower into the meandering tide

A simple gesture, on a day, locked into my memory

Transfixed, I watch the rose on its journey into eternity

Then stand, with the cathedral bells ringing in the distance

The archaic metal peeling out the sounds of remembrance.

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