Tony King

I was looking from my window at the first of winter’s snow;
All the grass was disappearing as its mantle spread below.
But a single rose was standing, symbol of past summer days
And I saw its petals wave as if to catch my roaming gaze.

But the snow kept pressing downwards. Though the rose was wild and bold
It could not withstand the onslaught and it withered from the cold.
I stool still with mixed emotions as my eyes surveyed the scene.
Soon the snow had wiped all trace away of where the flower had been.

Though the soil was toiled and fertile’; even though a flower may bloom;
Though it pass through all the tempests of the autumn’s rainy gloom,
It cannot withstand the winter’s harsh extremes of ice and cold
And the flower will die and wither, as its beauty still unfolds.

So with love! A thing of beauty in life’s garden blooming strong,
Giving fragrance through the summers, yet it’s lost in winter’s storm.
Like the rose within my garden appealing splendor to the sky,
Yet the cold will make love wither, and the flower of love will die.