by Dana Adams
Not with rue look at her face
with missing rose-lipt child of grace*
adorned with Mary's crown of roses
or other faith this view composes.
Etched on sainted brow is born
coronal chambers free of thorn,
so velvet brush of cheek might stir
within our souls sweet scents of myrrh.
Mind-pure petals, nourishing beads
sustain this flower of ageless seeds.
Thoughts blossom in our inner shrines
and blend in with our life as signs
of evermore and rose perfumes
perennial, alive she blooms.
Norman S. Pollack
reference: "With Rue My Heart is Laden"