Though sunny days had dwindled to a few,
I felt my roses might remain and grow.
I pampered them with all the love I knew,
restructured their domain with spade and hoe.
But, as I was rejoicing, there appeared
a cold, north wind with neither grace nor style.
It blundered through my garden bed and sheared
the faces from my special blooms, and while
I watched their beauty scatter on the air,
the bully rustled in the trees, unkind
to all my hopes and dreams until despair
convinced me of an autumn truth. I find
those blossoms I adore can never stay.
November’s breath will bear them all away
Published on December 7th, 2022
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