682. Upon the velvet blush of morning's grace,

SONNET 682
By JH Sayyar
Upon the velvet blush of morning's grace,
The rose awakes with dew upon her cheeks,
A sovereign bloom in nature's courtly place,
Whose fragrant voice makes silence speaks
Each petal folds a secret soft and shy,
Of love, whispered beneath the waning moon,
Of fleeting time that bids all beauty die,
Yet leaves behind a soul's eternal tune
The crimson ones recall a heart aflame,
While white proclaims a purer, gentler hue;
The yellow sings of friendship's golden name,
And pink, of tender hopes that once we knew.

Though thorns may guard where petals grow,
The rose still reigns in joy, in grief, in woe.