A shepherd of beauty

For every withered rose,

trampled beneath the concrete & gravel of our ways,

there stood a shepherd of beauty,

to gently remind us of the wonder & joyous color,

that once freely leapt from its radiant tips,

it is so that our very own remedies slowly weaken with time,

& in our hour of apathy,

we are beckoned into our mother's sobering embrace,

& in such a embrace,

We are liberated from the angered clutches of our demons,

even if only for a mere moments time.