Gentle immortal

a poem by Ash sarge, USA

Oh gentle petals,
Why do you bloom,
Amongest the sharpened stones,
Your natures are of fairies, soft dirt,
And the garden gnomes.
Oh delicate shower,of a fragile crown,
Can you truly reign,
And command, the earths rogues,
To shelter you,
From the rain, frost and snow.
Your roots are of a stuborn sort,
The ale you drink runs dry,
Still you have my admiration.
Your bloom is late, out of place,
And out of season,
The cruelty of it all,
A different attire is a must,
For winter,
A dress fall does not own.
Pretty blue, you'll die,
One day soon...
Shy not away from my fingers,
I have a place so much closer,
Than my heart,
To immortalize yor beauty.
Do not tremble, or let loose,
Your fragile crown,
I am much more loyal,
Than these stones all around.
You won't feel the murder of winter,
I offer a softer death,
And the saving pages of my book.

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