The skies are changing, wild cloud streaking
In and out of sunbeams, veils of grey.
Roses heavy bowed with bee-loud scent
Strain against the wind, stain pink the day.
I hear your words again against the howl
Of crow-black branches, twisted by the gale,
They lie as dull as water in the ditch,
Their echoes faded like a distant wail.
Roses fall, wind bears all trace away,
The sky has changed, in stormlight shadows play.