The Old English Rose

The Old English Rose
Strikes another pose.
Seemingly preserved in a non-ageing vase
She is not without the scars
Of a full-bodied life.
One of both joy, and strife.
She was once a pleasure to pluck
Now she resembles a preserved monarch.
Still stalked and standing regal.
This velvety, leathery petal.
Neither lacklustre, nor thin
But gently fading, with season-beaten skin.
And slowly weathering, not withering away
She walks, with an ever-elegant sway.