A Summer Rose Poem by Paul Reed
A Summer Rose
I walked past a rose
On impulse, stopped
Then turned back;
How could I discard
Your folded glory
Which nothing lacks;
The shrivelled hand of Winter
Tried to take you prey
But failed;
The frosted blast of early Spring
With it's icy binds
And grimy winds that railed;
All now past memories
Under your soft pillow
Of yellow bloom;
All now swept away
In the Summer tide
That is your perfume
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4/20/2024 1:10:08 AM # 1.0.0.1119
