A rose gave up her secret

A rose gave up her secret

   Of its origin - of its beauty -

In the shadow of her crescent -

   Fiercely hushed once to me.

She told me of a plan of love

   And a Master Gardener who

Has a touch of silver that betrothed

   The rose to the morning dew

And described a plane in between

   Nothing and a foundation -

The design of which is unbreached -

   That lies in an unmeasured dimension

But her exact words were lost

   To the enjambment of my memory -

Moreover - my comprehension lapsed -

   Found lost inextricably.