His English Rose

Another quick poem.

He called me his English Rose,
As we sat 'neath the old oak Tree,
He compared our love to the Sun,
Too hot, too big to comprehend.

He forgot that the Sun sets.

He said my eyes were pools of blue,
Oceans of depth beyond compare.

He forgot that mystery lurks in the ocean's deep.

He compared our time together to a Summer's day,
And, basked, roasted, in the heat,

He forgot all days must end
And Summer to turns to winter bleak.

He compared my hair to silken threads,
Announced them finer than any he'd seen.

He forgot threads, silken or human
Perish slowly.

He said my love made him glow,
Like the Moon as it reflects the Sun.

He forgot the Moon disappears
On its cycles.

He called me his English Rose,
But all Roses wilt.