Tag Archives: The Alchemist’s Rose

The Alchemist’s Rose

The beauty of a flower
Is not in its petals or its scent
Nay, nor yet is it in the pollen
That crazed bees maraud after
In springtime sorties
For the truth is far more delicate
And subtle than that
As it of course should be
The flower’s perennial wonder
Is its eternal Platonic form
That casts no shadow
And is immune to corrosive
Time’s kisses for when
Seen with the mind’s eye
Its blooms are golden