Treasure Island

Naoimh Spence

(26/10/1990 / Northern Ireland)

Summer Rose


The sweet scent of a distant rose,
Clouds above in the summer sky,
Out in the fields where a warm wind blows.

The dew glitters in the light, morning glows
with light and birdsong that cannot deny
The sweet scent of a distant rose.

The faraway rush of a river that flows
And has always flowed, never running dry,
Out in the fields where a warm wind blows.

The river knows not where it goes,
It can only distinguish, somewhere nearby,
The sweet scent of a distant rose.

I lie in the grass and take my repose,
Feeling a peace too complete to deny;
Out in the fields where a warm wind blows.

A scene such as this is one that shows
that the dawn of a new life is nigh;
The sweet scent of a distant rose,
Out in the fields where a warm wind blows.

Submitted: Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Edited: Tuesday, July 26, 2011

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