611. O Rose! Your imperfect shades of grace

SONNET 611

By JH Sayyar

O Rose! Your imperfect shades of grace
Dim in my memory but are present still!
Shimmer in a dark and dreary night base
In old age to be young time cannot kill!
Cruel time scythe reaps but cannot reap!
The crops of Muse sowed in power lines
Time reaps body crops; heaps over heap!
Meditation shines in the coal of mines!
My Rose in hair black turns to grey fast
Youth says adieu, old age; coming soon
The bark of beauty shaking power mast
If youth is colorful, in old age men croon

Old age seeds are hidden in youth charm
If no attention to youth, it is a death alarm