The Last Rose
A red petal dropped from the last crimson rose,
It seemed that the sky turned to grey,
As around the old garden,
The sad whisper went “The summer has ended today”
A bird voiced its grief from the shade of the hedge,
As the petals fell down on the grass,
But the death of a rose cannot shatter our faith,
Nature works in mysterious ways.
For a rose must die to awaken again
In the glory of blue summer days,
So when the summer of living is spent,
Should we tremble in autumn’s cold breath,
No – there is not need when all nature insists,
After winter comes spring.