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Here are my roses, warmed by sunshine.
The pale pink rose that scrambles against the fence
and the wild rose that falls in cascades from next door.
The blowsy pink rose draped in the apple tree,
the shell pink rose growing through Canterbury Bells.
Lush petals, bright stamens, sweet fragrance,
I walk up and down, trying to fix the memory
of this quiet garden before the rain.
In time the memory will blur and I will forget
the day, and the rain, and the names of the roses
but this is how it was on that June afternoon.
The pale pink rose that scrambles against the fence
and the wild rose that falls in cascades from next door.
The blowsy pink rose draped in the apple tree,
the shell pink rose growing through Canterbury Bells.
Lush petals, bright stamens, sweet fragrance,
I walk up and down, trying to fix the memory
of this quiet garden before the rain.
In time the memory will blur and I will forget
the day, and the rain, and the names of the roses
but this is how it was on that June afternoon.
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Rose bliss.
ReplyDeleteThey are beautiful! xx
ReplyDeleterose scented memories x
ReplyDeleteThey are beautiful. I can almost smell them....
ReplyDeleteDon't you just love roses - what's not to love.
ReplyDeleteLovely poem
ReplyDeletehug.
ReplyDeletelovely. just one thing...
ReplyDeleteso much pink
where's the yellow?
;^)