By James Roller
I have a little rosebush just as fragile as the dawn
That holds the border in between my picket fence and lawn.
It’s seen no fearsome battle, though it’s been attacked by weeds,
And mail of pointed thorns is all the armament it needs.
But while the blossoms, all in bloom, perfume the morning air,
And though I must admit that it looks perfect standing there,
I know the truth is only that it’s just another bush,
And other plants have blossomed other roses just as lush.
So when my little fighter falls to leave the border bare,
I know that soon some other flow’ring plant will sprout up there.
It’s really no great revelation, just the way of things.
We watch when beauty dies away and see what absence brings.
It’s true in life and love, like every nation falls away
To leave another border to defend another day.
It leaves the thinking person to reflect upon the whole,
To search for meaning in a world that rings a constant toll,
Where death and birth amount to nothing more than simple change,
A flowing stream of life and time that keeps the future strange;
A concept so familiar that we think it small and trite,
Although our Cosmos Infinite is swallowed by its might.
Oh we can only marvel at the power of the force,
Though, in a small way, influence the motion of its course.
Then, looking deeper still, we find that something more endures,
A quality within our lives that, when we die, matures;
Like every parent feels compassion for a newborn child,
And children become lovers, thrown in passions fierce and wild,
Which then, of course, begets another generation new:
The strong grow old and pass away, and youth gets older too.
Throughout, the older loves the young, and younger loves the old,
And wars destroy and peace is made for centuries untold.
Thus, some are blessed and some bereft and sadness comes and goes,
And no one stops to count the cost of what our hearts dispose.
And sometimes people kneel and pray, but practice not a day,
And dreamers and philanthropists watch futures slip away.
Although the times transcending time our present time endow,
In truth, the only time in which we ever live is now.
So walk awhile with me, my dear, among my garden’s store
As Adam took the hand of Eve so many years before,
And if, perchance, we two should come upon some fated rose
That somewhere ‘tween a picket fence and grassy parcel grows,
Allow me to assist the seeds of time supplanting change,
And cut the bloom for you and thus our futures rearrange.
In giving you this beauty, far more beauty I create:
A love that stays, if just a little longer from its fate.
So let us love a little for the moment if you will,
For now’s the season in our lives, and we have time to fill.
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