The November Rose


I had an email from one of my readers asking if I was well, as my poetic postings had suddenly dried up three weeks ago. The cause for the sabbatical was my father’s death at the age of 92 after a lifetime enjoyed and well lived. Earlier this week, while having a bit of a tidy-up before my father’s funeral, I came across a lonely-looking rose in the garden…

The deck chairs are gathering dust,
the barbecue’s put away,
the sun casts long dark shadows,
Winter is on its way.

The last colour in the garden,
a single rose (of colour bright),
fighting against all odds,
twixt coming frost and darken night

There is a time for us to die,
that is how life’s cycle goes,
some bow out with a burst of colour,
just like this November rose!

Stay healthy and safe and enjoy life!

© Baldock Bard 2018
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