LOVE AND ROSES
My roses, whose threat is winter
Last unto November
Though flowers hardier
Long since have spent
True, my blossoms grow together,
Though elder blooms lend their heads
To sad remove so others live,
That sun and water grow the new
Yet all endure the loss
That engenders gifts of life
Till at winter’s sure behest
All lie down in patient slumber
Till spring arouse from season’s rest
Such is my love,
Gift to what we mortals own
The briefest breath
To come as others go
And go as others come
But in the sweetest interim
Is a glow that ought never die
But does and will
Yet leaves a thought
That’s immortal still;
A thought that will
Keep this heart of mine alive
Despite death’s December chill
Why this rare gift is mine I’ll never know;
Why earth and time
Bestows this treasure
Till our eyes will someday close
Though this is sure:
The gift was an eternal rose
© John Burciaga 10/2024
POETRY THAT MATTERS 