A Box Of Roses
Melon hues of roses bloom caress the February sky.
The muted grays with the soft pinks made me think,
of the not so long ago days of my mourners sigh.
The girl at the store today carried today a box of roses of melon hue.
So come now these; my recollections of a calling come due.
Precious to me was this soul thus departed into a promised land.
Oh resolute now is this, mine heart on the brevity of sinful man.
Five years have come, five years have now gone.
And I still have that last single rose held by mom.
Its pinks are now a dried and rusty, dusty brown.
And it is by this; the passing of a day;
It is from this the ending of another year.
That I; oh I come nearer to my mom so dear.
Oh to look upon your face again…
To say I’m sorry and that I love you.
Soon…I feel it is soon.
J. Allen Wilson © TWO 2007