Borrowed Scent

I plucked a rose today,

Now I am left in dismay.

The rose tried to leave its scent,

But my mind had one slippery bend.

Dreaming of the golden years,

I slept away all the time that was near.

And all that’s left now is mixing tears,

In vain trying to fight human fears.

Lost in the drops of the first rain,

I didn’t wipe the eye’s rain of pain.

And in those rainy reveries,

I wished to stay forever merrily.

Those dreams of the misty mornings,

In the hot afternoon firings.

And the benevolent sun shining ,

And this majestic plan transpiring.

Blossomed roses cannot unblossom,

And their scent lingers long into the morrow .

Golden years never return,

yet their light shines on all dark paths.

If I could, I would grow my roses ,

In that wonderful rain of that golden year.

But the roses’ scent lingers as does the smell of the first rain,

As I continue on a solitary path with its myriad borrowed scents.

                

* So , first post in a while. Now where do I begin to say what this is all about. It's about this idea of perfection that <some> of us stupid guys chase. And the fact is there really is no such thing as absolute perfection or absolute truth. I mean everyone has some good qualities and some flaws . And if you start moving away from people just because of their flaws and ignore their good , you are gonna end up being really miserable and depressed and lonely. Fact is there really isn't much black and white in the world outside science text books. And as that cheesy cliche goes , go find your own shade of grey . Anywho , you can't measure yourself or anything else by this golden standard in your head , because then you'll just push away all the good that comes you. And even if you push all that good away, their scent lingers on like roses you once held. The least you can do is not let that scent fade away. You can't look for perfect in an imperfect world. And I wish I knew all this before. But, I guess that's the thing about maturity, it comes to you when it has to. *