The rose my mother planted, is just a memory,
the rose my mother planted, is far across the sea.
I can remember it as a lad,
being tended with loving care by my dad.
Running past him in the sun,
playing games, and having fun.
But alas, alack, those days are gone,
still the childhood memories, linger on.
Perhaps one day, who knows, we will see,
once more, I will gaze at mothers rose, across the sea.