Poetry: Last Rose

Poetry: Last Rose

Last Rose

Like the crest of a giant wave,

A warm Autumn day

Holds me up to the sun,


Edges of lost Summer,

Reviving a frost-bruised rosebud

Bent on withering,

Persuaded to open

After all

And wink at Winter eyes

Staring from a distance.


Joan Kehoe

Scarborough, ON
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