you can't take it

i stood in the pre dawn
my face to a rose,
kissed by morning’s dew
tiny droplets on its skin
reflecting bits of my soul,

i say to the warming air,
“you can’t take them yet,”
even as it, i know,
it will mercilessly evaporate,
these dew dots of love,

. . . you can’t take this rose,
or this morning
you cannot take the dew,
not until i drink my fill,
not until,
my soul is full

this rose is my life
from it’s image flows nectar
to my scourged and tired eyes
its tender petals, red
elixir to my weary heart

the breeze is stirring
the defenseless trees,
the bushes are tumultuous

it seems you can’t quite have it
’til it’s gone,
like it’s not really yours,
’til it’s stolen or destroyed

i stood in the pre dawn
my face to a rose,
kissed by morning’s dew
tiny droplets on its skin
reflecting bits of my soul