Sometimes roses

There are roses on the wall and climbing,
To the dark of midnight, light of sun;
There are flowers falling in the garden,
Though throbbing, brazen summer’s not yet done.

There is darkness coming with the turning
Of the year, the guns already blaze,
And leaf pyres in the field already burning;
The acrid taste smoke in morning’s haze.

There are roses climbing through the roof beams,
And tangled honeysuckle, berried-black,
The pretty path is harder than it first seems,
And the truth is, you can never take it back.

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.

9 thoughts on “Sometimes roses”

  1. Oh, I really like this! Beautiful phrases to describe the end of summer–and no, you can never take it back.
    I was just telling someone about you, in case your ears are burning. 😀 I was saying how we often have very similar poems (and other stuff).

    1. Thank you. The roses are having another spurt. I don’t know where they find the energy!
      No, my ears never burn. It’s strange, husband is always showing me how red his ear has got. Must be so much more popular than me.

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