Poets Corner – The Bonfire – November 2021

The Bonfire

This cloud of smoke in other hours
Was leaves and grass, green twigs
and flowers.

This bitter-sweet dead smell that blows
Was once the breathing of the rose.

Shapeless the forms of petals fair
And slender leaves melt on the air,

And in a scent she never knew
In life, the rose departeth too.

By Eleanor Farjeon

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