A rose I give to you. Not as a farewell, but rather as a “I will see you soon.” I could look upon a field of the dying and the dead alike and only see you. Your beauty standing like a single rose amongst dandelions. Dare I pick it? Dare I shatter the side of such an hourglass and start the hands of time a ticking. They tick as they tock their way around this thing they call a clock and all I know is the rose ages. Can I but freeze a moment and hover on a whisper.
Beauty, today you are a rose.