The Autumn Rose
In the garden stands an Autumn Rose,
Still fresh, so bright and pink,
So sturdy it stands and does not close,
Yet fragile, it's as soft as mink.
Other flowers have withered and passed,
They're bent towards the ground.
Their fragrance gone, they could not last
Their beauty has left; it's in the past.
The Autumn Rose has merited its right,
To stand tall among the rest.
Weathering hot days and chilly nights,
Triumphing as the best.
In the garden stands the Autumn Rose,
Upright towards the sky.
Rooted firmly it does not close,
Admiring to the eye.
Copyright © Judith Kerttula | Year Posted 2018
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