THOLOS OF ATHENA

Friday, May 16, 2003

copeland morris THE ROSE...THE MIMOSA




To stand outside the world or within it, facing the rose,
The words are surprised,
As silence is.

And hardly a shelter, intricate mimosa
Barely fends off the oppression of summer, almost without
Shadow.

He thinks of those unpossessed hands that gather
In brilliant vases
A passion.

She thinks of the mimosa, a subtle mist,
A coolness the face can just perceive and bless.


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