If flowers could talk...

~*Song of the Yellow Rose*~

My face becomes a mirror to the ashen Autumn sun
Instilling crystal memory, hearts and desires foregone
The melancholy yellow rose, a fluted amber globe
My sculpted sunshine melts away, at Winter's bitter probe
As Summer now is ushered from the fickle worldly stage
Sundial shadows spiral swift, and time becomes my cage
My petals deluge misted airs, a white-gold rain of tears
A rush of saffron wishes, my discarded silken spears
Yet every rose must bear her thorn - and mine is jealousy
Rose red's forgotten sister earns no undue sympathy
For me there is no ornate throne in tangled human hearts
No mythic grace, divine embrace, or stained-glass work of art
Ruby rose is brazen as a scarlet dawn in bloom
Her sickly swathes of beauty spun by venom-dripping loom
Heed not her call, her soul is black - obsidian's blinded eye
O blood-bedraggled cliche, less adored than thee am I
The yellow failure withers, sinking down to wat'ry deeps
And young rose white, in chill delight, awakens from her sleep
The argent temptress weaves her webs of subtle purity
A sweet disguise o'er harlot's eyes - a hollow deity
I glimmer not as snow beneath the Emperor's Aged feet
Or embellish golden tresses with my glistening deceit
Concealed by tower walls was I, yet where the lost wind blows
The world's forsaken bloom sings on - the tainted yellow rose.