In my garden, a red rose of brilliant beauty blooms;
Delightful to behold, its fragrance thrills my senses.
I plucked that rose for the pleasure of its sweet perfume;
It withered and died and no essence now dispenses.
Real life never meets our heartís great expectations,
And bygone pleasures can leave a twinge of emptiness.
The joys the soul delights in all have limitations;
Heartbreak often follows on the heels of happiness.
Lifeís passing splendours are but temporal reflections;
Earthly indicators that should steer us Heavenward;
Glimpses of the Maker, point us in His direction;
Regeneration!!!--- awaits the coming of the Lord.