Les Jardins de Roses

A second skin of white silk shimmering with promise,
Smiling, bright eyes and a wreath of roses, perfection.
Some things echo in time without fading, heartbeats
Even as the ever-rising sun, the self-succeeding self.
Wish my plane had gone down in the desert long ago,
Wish I had the warm sand’s soft embrace, orginal skin
Unsweet, unsheathed, solace endless as forgetting.
Need the end come before the beginning, last & first?