Seasons of the Heart – Sonnets

                    By Munda

 

                    Awakened by the early sun of Spring,

                    And whispers in the wind of love anew;

                    Enchanted by the melody it sings,

                    A rosebud rises in the morning dew.

                    Whilst snow and frost flee for a beacon bright,

                    A Red Rose cuddles up in sun’s embrace.

                    Enlightened, yet without a trace of fright,

                    Unfolding velvet leaves with loving grace.

                    Bestowed with passion of his golden rays,

                    She grows into a beauteous red Rose,                    

                    Aloft on rainbows proudly she displays,

                    True shades of red, composed by love’s repose.

                    Amid the composition of his art,

                    She knows this is the Summer of her heart.

 

                    But suddenly the Summer turns to Fall,

                    And Winter tears asunder unity;

                    The magic of the snow cannot enthral;

                    Oh Rose, no bloom’s intent infinity!                   

                    Deprived of joie de vivre and its mystique,

                    She can’t endure its loss, nor its torment.

                    While crystal teardrops seal her loss unique,                   

                    The wrath of silence raves through firmament.

                    Thus overcome by smart to death she yields;                   

                    Her love - now still; faith perished; hope’s decay,

                    And petals flutter onto withered fields,                   

                    Bereft of life upon a Winter’s day.

                    The Rose - her heart – withheld of love she weeps;

                    Withdraws into eternal Winter sleep.

 

                    © Copyright Munda 2001

 

 

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