When my mom died, our good friends gave us a little yellow rosebush to plant in the front garden. It has been blooming and blooming, even as the temperatures drop to freezing. When I bent down to take this photo, the sharp sweet scent from the flowers was so strong that it really surprised me. I came in and wrote this poem for the roses and my mom.
The Bloom is Still on the Rose
Didn’t anyone tell you that
It’s time to stop blooming?
You won’t listen to that,
Even when it gets hard and cold,
That only strengthens your resolve
And opens your heart scar once again
To the suffering of others
Before the raggedy stitches that you used
To darn it back in place
Have been able to settle and mend.
Never give up.
Not now or ever,
Even when you know
It’s time to move on.