Poetry

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In my garden, a red rose of brilliant beauty blooms;
Delightful to behold, its fragrance thrills my senses.
I plucked that rose for the pleasure of its sweet perfume;
It withered and died and no essence now dispenses.

Real life never meets our heart’s great expectations,
And bygone pleasures can leave a twinge of emptiness.
The joys the soul delights in all have limitations;
Heartbreak often follows on the heels of happiness.

Life’s passing splendours are but temporal reflections;
Earthly indicators that should steer us Heavenward;
Glimpses of the Maker, point us in His direction;
Regeneration!!!--- awaits the coming of the Lord.

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