by J. W. Cassandra
Salutes you at last, summer, the rose,
Salutes you its half-closed bud.
The wind guards it at threshold of its bloom,
Kiss of the Moon rouses it to blossom.
Salutes you, new summer, the rose,
Salutes you its self, enclosed in a bud.
It is timid to blossom, it is washed by rain,
Its pomp is painted by the kiss of Sun.
The Sun engoldens its effulgent beauty,
Its timid grace is rippled by silver light.
Its secret is whispered to be petals, by breeze,
Velvet of its petals your soul caresses…
Salutes you at last, new summer the rose,
It salutes you with its gemmiferous secrets.
The Moon throws on the rose its silver dust,
The Sun floods its golden light on the rose:
So will be its self an effulgent secret,
So will be your soul velvet of its secret;
It salutes you by silver light of Moon,
It salutes you by golden light of Sun;
It melts its tears for you into velvet…
20/05. 2019., by J. W. Cassandra