Bittersweet Memories

The path was still there

with memories

of thousands of footsteps

making their way

to the little crumbling cottage

where along the way

wild roses grew

at one time that cottage

knew love and laughter

and happiness reigned supreme

now it was bent under

winter snows

spring rains dripped along the eaves

and the summer sun scorched

there was no one any longer

who cared

but the roses they kept growing

and will do so for many seasons more

and somewhere old and trembling hands

looked through worn photo albums

and remembered a time

when the cottage

held love

and the scent of the roses

was sweeter than wine.