My Rose Garden
With high expectations, I enter my Rose Garden each day;
eager for what my lovelies have in store for me, what activity, what play.
Constantly, overtly or covertly, something is always churning;
no matter the season, their circles of life keep on turning.
For them the Omega instead of being the ending;
often the point of renewal, the Alpha of a new beginning.
Only a very miserable day deters me from this magical site;
there with a cough, a bleary- eye, a runny-nose, an ache, whatever my plight.
Continually prodding, nit-picking, clipping and cajoling;
enticements to let them know I care and to keep the action going.
There are Hybrid Teas, Chinas, Bourbons, Minis, Climbers, Shrubs and Minifloras;
Polyanthas, Hybrid Rugosas and Musks, Floribundas, Teas and Grandifloras.
Namely Perle d’Or, Marie Van Houtte, Old Blush, Moonstone, Don Juan and Mary Maud;
Souv de la Malmaison, Julia Child, Carefree Beauty and Pearlie Mae, of the many we applaud.
From this Rose Garden I’ll garner the full measure;
rewards from my efforts to maximize their gifts to my pleasure..
Awaiting the coming of Spring——
Now, the roses are dormant in their mulched beds;
a well-earned respite for their tousled heads.
Resting-up from their long period of growing;
storing- up strength for their next session of showing.
To be awakened by the pruner’s deft art of trimming;
unleashing Mother Nature’s exhibit of beauty brimming.
All colors, all blends and all hues;
except for pure blacks and the true blues.
Somehow a Green Rose has long persisted;
yet, they’ve tagged it a White Rose as if it never existed.
Also, they’ve come up with Mauve as a color variation;
covering the spread from a ‘ nearly that’ to a ‘just beyond that’ radiance situation.
As I await the coming of Spring;
always hopeful for the promises of the new life it will bring.
The choice of my favorite Rose will still remain;
the one I am standing next to, never wavering, ever faithful, again and again.
Suddenly, all the roses are trying;
out-blooming the others, for your favor vying.
Their blossoms are heady with aroma and nectar;
beckoning the bumble- bees and butterflys to them as if by vector.
Giving another chance to repeat;
the new life processes without so much as skipping a beat.
For this activity is to produce hips loaded with seeds;
validating their botanical apple-plant family needs.
Perpetuating the varieties through decades of changes;
fostered by nature and man to produce new form and color ranges.
Thanks be to the Good Lord and the crik don’t run dry;
a Rose will always remain a Rose, no matter what they try.-
Hope and Promise—–
Therefore, Hope to all of us is given;
it is not by chance or pure luck that our lives are striven.
For our days in our Rose Gardens of life are numbered;
it is for us to enjoy and leave them unencumbered.
By fear, hate, doubt,and ‘why poor little me’;
but, wrapped in the cloak of trust to fortify us for our ‘ to be what is to be’.
The Promise of an Eternal Life is not from some Seer’s horoscope;
it is from a Divine Grace beyond which we cannot cope.
Unlike the seemingly timeless varieties we so admire;
we may pass this place but once more in a single lifetime before we tire.
So, while we are here in our garden let us propose;
through our presence to others we are deemed as “matta- laka” Rose. Joy—–
Thus, as we live our lives and grow steadily older;
like the Rose the beauty of life is as in the eye of the beholder.
In tune, as the seasons approach their last turn;
the roses are gearing-up for their final run.
Blossoming and foliage still very active, but slowing;
without the prospects of their future ever knowing.
As I bring this visit to my Garden of Roses to an end;
may you all be empowered by the tidings I extend.
To all who embrace the Rose Gardens of life they have grown;
may they also derive the rewards of happiness I have known.
The Joy of growing beautiful roses is so dear to my heart;
along with Family, God and Country at the top of the chart..
Again, it is time for Mother Nature to do her motherly duty;
beckoning to tuck- it- in to each beauty.
A kiss and a snuggle to each and every one;
a pat on the back for a job well done.
And, like some children to do their own way;
several still lingering to romp at their play.
With blossoms that radiate their deepest blush;
not wanting to fold their tents in such a big rush.
At last, reluctantly, they also will call it a day;
slowly, then speedily, heading for the hay.
Finally, all are given a warm ‘good-night,sleep-tight’;
with a wish to see them once again when the season is right.
To re-appear in their circles of life all anew;
maintaining the strains of their varieties forever true.
From here in Tallahassee, all are invited to come see;
to abide in my Garden of Roses and jaw awhile with me.
To tell tall tales, boast and brag a bit and beguile with white- lies;
we’ll huff and puff and cover our short-comings with more alibis.
In total, most and above all else, we will all share;
an enduring, and passionate commitment to the Rose, our flowering love- affair.
And so, to you who have endured this spate of poetic wit;
I pray you grant it be as the work of an Author, and not as that of a Twit.