He hands her a rose

A minute poem ( I seem to be thinking in minute poetry at the moment) for the Secret Keeper’s writing prompt. The words she has chosen are:


The image is one I used yesterday, but it seems equally appropriate for this poem.


You laugh and hand me a red rose,

The west wind blows,

Rain in the air,

Gems in your hair.


Forever mine, forever yourn,

Young love is born,

A heady scent,

And then you went.


The garden lies forlorn and bare,

Your spangled hair,

No more I’ll kiss,

Your touch I’ll miss.


Winter comes, white petals falling,

Wild geese calling,

Though not to me,

To the wild sea.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

16 thoughts on “He hands her a rose”

  1. Just love this Jane. Love it. On the train back from the airport where I just put my mum and my aunts on the plane back to Ireland after 5 days with me celebrating mums birthday and reading this gem!!!

  2. Forgive my ignorance, am I correct in assuming a minute poem is literally one written in a minute or able to say aloud within a minute? Just wanting to know as I might (shudder!) give it a go, great idea! You did a splendid job of this and certainly one would not think you could have written this with any speed yet I suspect you did. Bravo.

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