Laura, my wonderful soul-mate, loves and raises Roses. I marvel at her skill and tender care as she nurtures these beautiful and fragrant flowers. This was written several years ago as a tribute to my amazing wife. I share it here, again, a reminder of what a remarkable woman my lovely Valentine is.
Summer.
Deck brittle with age, surrounded by color, a wall.
Satin petals: Red, Pink, Ivory, Maize.
Thorns a reminder: look, don't touch.
Water droplets perfectly formed, wait to escape.
Bees busy, a harvest of nectar.
Woman sits, watches, filled with joy at the sight.
She labors with tender care.
Scarred by thorns, undaunted.
She plants, she feeds, she waters.
The full bloom of her effort,
a feast for the eyes
Delicious to smell.
Autum.
Sun's path plunges
colors blaze then fade.
Not an end; pause, to rest.
Winter.
In time she plans for the deep white sleep of winter.
Well covered. Glory there still, but not.
They wait.
Spring.
She prepares the soil, a feast.
They awake from slumber, race to come out.
Canes the channel of life, carry lovely crowns through voyage to summer.
Summer.
In full bloom they linger.
Celebrated, loved; a reminder,
In the begining God.
bN tGit
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