A Rose beneath the canopy

Let her sway with the wintry black firmament
Along with the prism of this moonbeam
In this deafening thunder and serene torment
She died with thy lonesome words and hymn

Beneath the foliage of this old oak tree,
Lies the rimester's last missing piece
For thee– the lovelorn's ethereal symphony
A sonnetto, filled with her withered bliss.

Beneath the ashen old oak's canopies
A rose painted with pale hue of sanguine
The last reminiscence of my forlorn love to thee
With my despair to meet you at the edge of this auld lang syne.

-raile

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