A Sonnet to My Rose
By Norm Olson, Nikiski
Eyes brief commune doth comfort and console,
Warm icy winter, and grace the terrene day.
Hands touch and for eternal moments hold
That which with time must soon pass away.
Swept close against time and distance’s sweep
For seconds more precious than all the hours,
To have, then give that which I cannot keep,
Purloined by time’s herculean powers.
When next we meet stand silently and still
And form no word that may betray the heart,
But eyes communing and touching until,
And again, by fleeting moments we part.
Then the heart holds, as time and distance grows,
That vision of love, my taken rose.
