Sarboom

2011

Encomium

Must dead roses adorn your abode of stone?

So sinfully quiet in disturbing peace, Treacherous it is that you must cease. Have you left me to seethe, all alone with perfidious intent to see you anon? Lost are your words to the arrogant breeze,

which now whispers of death to those who would believe. A hyacinth you were as it always seemed, for at the very end your true colors you did bleed.

With words so poignant and sickly sweet, Dearest friend you will be missed indeed.