(he whispers) 13 rose fragrant riddles
a tease of love’s first senses
(she) reclines upon fresh petals
(they) wrapped in moonlight embraces
*
beauty mingles with each day
sun reaches to taste her dew
in the garden they will play until the last ray is through
*
standing elegantly now
confident above the rest
she will stately take her bow wrinkles fade into the past
*
she lays on the grave
fingers hold her fast
smiles of memory’s day a love that would eternal last
Today’s prompt for Poet’s United Mid Week Motif is 13 (using 13 lines) . So often we think of this number as bad luck.
penned in moon dust 