Aesthetic Realism Online Library Poetry by Martha Baird

 
 
    Red Is Not For Dying

    Red, the rambling roses fly,
    Encircling you, encircling me,
    Crying as they fly so high and furiously
    That flight must one day come to stillness,
    Fury spend its energy and die.
    The unrelenting infinite is hard
    For rambling roses.
    Red, the rambling roses cry.



    From Nice Deity (Definition Press)
    © 1955 by Martha Baird


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