Soft, a Summer of Moments Slips...

Soft, a summer of moments slips to the Empire of Past

No flower has the power to grip petals ever fast

Or usurp the authority that aggravates a fool

…all must succumb to the hierarchy of a higher rule

Impassioned views of Youth meets Truth; a brick upon the air

Then we grow old, no longer bold enough to double-dare

Or wrench fare from the gentle Hand from whence all blessing flows

For we have come to recognize the disguise of the rose

All that we ask is for a task that is noble and pure

All that we need is less of greed and more of what endures

The gravity of Brevity teaches us to revere

The bloom we hold before it folds its gold in russet tear

Soft, a summer of moments flows toward the close of day

Soft, like the climax of a rose it gently fades away

No flower finds the power to preserve its verve of prime

No hour finds a bower to escape the Hand of Time

Then God, I pray that we may not wrestle with The Ordained

Yet wring from it the full of it in fervor unrestrained

And take what is and cherish it with thankful zeal because

Soft, a summer of moments becomes everything that was

© Janet Martin

Reveling in the Bloom Of It these days...

 

Later we'll stroll through the Zinnias and marigolds, shall we?:)
Happy God-granted Friday!