Death of a Rose

Of God's breath you were born
a gossamer child
green as the sky is blue

Life made you fervent
composing your sharpness,
tenacity
of this you are wicked

a siren you be
begging for a single touch
but prick a finger on the spinning wheel
Beauty did
and poured that searing red

as did the finger that dared caress you
and now dear beauty is dead