Elegy--The Last Rose - Poetry by Adolfo

Late rose (Photo credit: Mary Hutchison)

Elegy—the Last Rose

By Adolph Caso

Transfixed onto my eyes

The lonely player

With a saddened look on his face

Plays a mournful planctus

From the lower register

Of his violoncello,

The sound

Mixing

With the diminishing scent

Of my sister’s Luise’s single rose

Its pink petals standing above

The dark stem

Surrounded by thorns

Hardened by the long winds

Of the better half of November.

The sound lifts my eyelids

Onto multi-colored leaves

Corralled by the wind and rain

And blanketing the grass

In its deep sleep.

Against a red sunset,

Here and there a few leaves

Standing erect as if antennas--

Are receiving secret messages

Who knows from whence or where

While processing

Both the music and the perfume

Through the dying leaves--

Their delicate membranes vibrating

As much to the cool evening breeze

As to the tremolo

Travel through my receptive veins

As though I were living the Middle Ages.

By the edge of the lawn

A thick patch of Creeping Carpet Bugle

With its variegated purple-bronzed foliage

Seeks deeper roots in the moist soil.

A sheen of redness mixed

With traces of purple and deep green

Mark the presence

Of the coming winter

As tombstones record

Those of my recent departed:

Chris, and Florentino,

Nina,

And you,

Mia cara Luisa,

Now that you are enjoying

The splendor of heaven,

Think of the beauty

You left behind

Here,

On earth,

For us to enjoy.

A myriad beams of white light

Shoots down onto the horizon,

One bouncing off toward my head.

On morphing into your face.

You place a kiss on my mouth

And quickly disappear.

I bring my fingers to my lips

And feel the softness

Of your tender kiss

Imprinted

As though it were real.

         ~~~~~~

Adolfo Caso, Friend,

Poet, Author, Photographer, Publisher

is a regular contributor to

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