…of the rose
The sea drifts unseeingly
deep and rolling
a shuddering, malachite expanse
surrendering with quiet whispers
lying within a false sleep
under a chaotic sky
scattered gems on the dreamscape
flickering across the water
shimmering, chameleon reflections
a waterfall of heartache
yearning after an unknown jewel
inside the temple of clouds
a pale, sterling moon
a sparkling diadem
concealing a dark star
dreaming of the rose
hiding behind the mist
fluttering, endlessly fluttering
while the kind shadows
are softly, softly plundering
with smooth, searching winds
through the flaming firmament
reaching for the offered silver
seeking the hidden treasures
as symbolic as those trembling petals
beneath the celestial canopy
the chimes mark the hours
and the hands of time circle
the ever-ticking clock
© Ann Bagnall 2013
