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:
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.