Rose Petals At My Feet
M
Mark Heathcote
0
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Rose petals at my feet look destitute
they're strewn all around our front garden path
they swirl like clouds trying to reconstitute;
it pangs my heart that in their aftermath
once again this summer draws to an end.
And my own, 'Damask Rose', I gave my heart-
didn't open, wasn't for a minute my friend.
Rose petals at my feet will now depart
and winter shall arrive with snow and sleet
spring and summer will come, but never again.
Love-deprived I shouldn't settle for conceit
remembering a once, glowing, warm gem.
Rose petals at my feet foretell our end
no longer in this rose can I pretend?
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