By Abby Epstein

Beneath the gleam of moon arises rose

Who’s grown in tardy petals, faint and thin.

The bee had woken late as per the sun

That rose in languish, wanting to sleep in.

Commenced a flood of wandering morning dew,

For clouds aloft had drifted towards the beds.

How lovely do the leaves and pillows lay,

When unencumbered by a slumber’s end?

All love in due time, writ in ideal stars.

No breath comes later than its need to stride.

A heartbeat’s rhythm’s constant until death –

‘Til flowers wilt while groom awaits his bride.

Keep patient, waiting if you’re so inclined

To stop and smell the roses, time to time.