A Wild White Rose

I cut a wild white garden rose

and placed her on the spot –

it won’t help the squirrel now,

but it helped me quite a lot . . .

The rose lay peaceful for a while

and then a car came by –

her petals were blown to smithereens

and still I wonder why

Death arrives so suddenly

random in his search

unseeing and unthinking

he knocks us off our perch!

I close my eyes and say a prayer

for pain that’s yet to come . . .

I throw up on the pavement

and think of you and some

who never see the colours

of Life so rich and vivid –

a purple stain on the pavement,

spreads vile and warm and livid.

I cut a wild white garden rose

And place her on the spot . . .

It will never help the squirrel now,

but it helps me quite a lot!