Patience lost and fallen is the rose:
Love was in the nightfall til it froze.
Frozen was the air one summer eve
Despite the warmth and mist in fields beyond.
Leave it be to agonize and grieve;
It has no more the warmth of when it dawned.
Summer birthed our hope in future bliss
And killed it too--its dying cries forborne
Without a blink or waver. No more, this:
Each perfect moment lost I have forsworn.
You gave me roses, gardens, in the night
And I believed your lies in depths of joy.
I thought our summer roses my delight
And found they meant not love but to destroy.
postscript
Day ten of the May Sonnet Challenge. A reverse sonnet. This one is a bit cliched. But I choose to call it merely inspired by the greats. (Even if being inspired by the greats nowadays is the same thing as cliched....)