Things We Love

SOLD

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.