I trimmed down the highest rose,
the thorns, the buds, and all,
and placed them in a tall blue vase,
so bright, yet bound to fall.
I placed them with some polemones,
five petaled whirled,
and the sunlight through the window,
did glow the soft fleur like pearl
The voice fills my memory,
song of the soul so bright,
flight in the spring, the spirit freed,
like the flower turns to seed.
Blessed is each new day,
when the sun drifts over the night
the movement, the dance, the song rings on
a world of shadows, the path is light