Last Rose of Summer
I cautiously touched the
last rose of summer as it grew.
It was so demure, shining brightly
flower with a golden hue.
Each petal was perfection
no signs of blight no eaten spot.
If it had any blemishes
I spied them not.
The color of sunlight
on a hot clear summer's day
and those darker deeper shades
in the center it did display.
It sparkled and beamed triumphant
declaring it's presence.
I became transfixed, lost partaking
of it's essence.
How much it meant to see
what beauty nature holds
on top, beneath, and in between
that rose's precious folds.
Last Rose of Summer
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