December Roses

Morning mist dots the

landscape, the hues of grey

and lavender hang in the

palpable air — a tangible

reminder of summer as the

autumnal chill descends.

The fragile gift of time ever

so apparent as the leaves

graciously turn yellow and

red, a final burlesque on

nearly bare branches.

The December roses cling

to the sun, climbing higher

up the wall in reach of warmth.

My heart

— like a rose —

as resilient as titanium, and

as fragile as the petals

torn from the safety of their

stem in the unforgiving wind.

Yet, my heart does not tear,

it can only shatter at harsh

actions of a loved one.

And as the sun begins it’s

climb in the sky blotting

out the moon — my heart

like the December roses

reaches for the sunshine as

it rustles in the hoarfrost.