Sonnet: The Flower’s No More

A flower rare grew ’midst the wild flowers, And had such beauty, words can never tell! Last year, ’twas born in July-end showers; This July rain became its fast death knell. The flower will not grow here-aft again! No more its sweet perfume shall emanate; And while alive, this land always did gain; Some persons didn’t allow it pollinate. The flower’s dead and none can resurrect! The time was short for seeds to generate; But all the time, it stood with grace- Erect! And gained a place in hearts that venerate. The flower will not bloom herein again! Ill-luck had smiled, denying all, its reign. 7-2O-2003 by Dr John Celes Dedicated to www.PoemHunter.com (my 888th poem submitted here)