Saturday, December 5, 2015

Things We Love


Roses make me think of my mom. She loves roses, and when I was growing up there were always roses in our yard. When my mom was a tiny little girl, her grandmother wrote a poem about her. It's my favorite poem and the only one I've memorized. When I think of roses and my mom, I think of this poem:

To Lola
It is autumn in my garden 
And the leaves are falling fast.
Little lights that gleam and glisten
Are but hoar frost on the grass
All the springtime bloom has withered;
Summer roses are all gone.
Mists are in the air, and sunshine 
Faint and shifting in the dawn.

But within a sheltered corner,
Place I love and call my own,
To recall my spring and summer
Grows a tiny rose - half blown.

It is you my brown-eyed Lola,
With your hair a golden sheen
That has brought me back my June time
In the fragrance of a dream.

You, the rosebud that has brought me
In this Indian Summer glow,
Love and joy of long lost springtime
Just before the winter's snow.


Sue Marrazzo said...


Mona Pendleton said...


Sue Harrell said...

Thank you so much, Sue and Mona. My apologies for not responding to your comments. I just found them today!