How Pale the Rose How pale the rose that blooms as never wild against the green of grasses unconfined and fate of thus becoming sickly child of limb and root forlornly intertwined. Transparently, so bravely it prevails as witness to predictable demise that must become the journey it regales in role as heaven's seed it will reprise, and thus so humbly occupies its place with hope of being plucked and dried and pressed between the leaves of time's eternal grace as beauty yet again to be addressed... ...or found at least by those who will today admire it as the pale of life's bouquet. Portly Bard Bio: Old man. Ekphrastic fan. Prefers to craft with sole intent of verse becoming complement... ...and by such homage being lent... ideally also compliment.
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The Ekphrastic Review
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October 2023
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